


Nova

by Freyjabee



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Drama, F/M, Guilt, Love, Lust, One Night Stands, Romance, Self-Harm, Suicide, life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freyjabee/pseuds/Freyjabee
Summary: Chased by his past, Loke can't run far or fast enough. The only way to feel alive is to feel dead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with depression and self-harm and other mature subjects. There will be sexual content and course language. Please don't read if any of this makes you uncomfortable.

The blade gleamed in the light of the sun, its shining silver surface reflecting back bone-white clouds. Wind whistled in his ear and pushed his copper hair over his brow, obscuring it from view. It was only for a moment, a breath, really, but his chest tightened. Feeling sick, he pushed his hair aside and breathed a sigh of relief when he could see the sharp edge and curling handle, looking exactly as he left it.

Loke swallowed the lump in his throat and rubbed his thumb over the wooden end, feeling the grooves roughened by his fingers and the water he'd used to clean it. He was supposed to oil it after it got wet but he never did. Its state of disrepair reflected his own and that suited him nicely.

He moved his thumb north to where the blade narrowed. It bit into his skin effortlessly. The blood was slow to come, but once it did, it bloomed on his skin like a rarely seen flower.

It wasn't enough; it never was.

Loke popped his thumb into his mouth and sucked away the blood; it tasted metallic and just a little sweet. As soon as it stopped pooling on his tongue, he went for his sleeve and rolled it up a few inches.

Yesterday's scar was still a thin line. Things stopped healing quite so fast now that his time was running out. That was just how Loke liked it. Whenever he was feeling particularly desperate but unable to sneak away from those that would ask questions, he'd inch his sleeve up and look at the pale marks. It helped curb the urge.

Finding a new spot, he dug the tip of the knife into his skin and pressed down until the pain made him clench his teeth, until blood blossomed, until the other pain felt just a little… less. Then he dragged it down almost to his elbow because today, he needed to suffer a little bit more for the selfish way he wanted to bask in her magic. It just rolled effortlessly off her skin, permeated the air, and fed his greedy heart. So long he'd been without it, he was making up any excuse he could to stand by her side.

It took some time to remember himself but once he realized his mistake, he found his way to this private knoll, chanting again and again, _'It's not for you. It's not for you.'_

_Not anymore._

He dug the blade in more. This relief… it was tepid at best.

Loke took the blade out of his arm and went for his leg next. That was his backup plan. The skin there was more sensitive, less use to being torn open. Finding a place just above his boots, he carved Karen's name as a reminder of what he did. As if he could forget.

He sat back and watched the blood run, wishing that he didn't have to wait for the world to eat him away. If he could, he'd join her now. That way, he wouldn't have to think of her. He wouldn't have to dream of her. He wouldn't have to go on, knowing she was watching and waiting for the moment to come.


	2. Chapter 2

The meadow was alive and vibrant. Tall grasses _rushed_ in the breeze, birds chirped loudly, crickets peeped, bees buzzed. The sounds competed with Karen's voice whispering in his mind, ' _I'm waiting,_ ' and everything pouring into his ears just seemed _too_ loud. For a moment, Loke longed for the cold stillness of the celestial realm, for the place he could disappear into and call his own. A place where her ghost couldn't quite reach. A place where he could have _silence_.

"Loke!"

Her voice rang out through the warm spring air, jarring his thoughts. Loke hadn't heard it very many times, but it held a particular cadence he didn't think he could ever forget. He found her jogging through a field of seeding dandelions. The white seed pods kicked up in her wake, lifted into the air by the breeze like some kind of feather train. She was beautiful, golds and bronzes and pinks and moved through this plain like she absolutely belonged. There was no limbo for Lucy Heartfilia.

Loke tucked his knife into his pocket and adjusted his sleeve down around his arm and fixed his pant leg. The blood was already congealing and pooled in his sock. It was uncomfortable, but not for the reasons he wished. He was healing already.

"Loke?" Lucy called.

Loke met her eyes for the briefest of moments, then turned his back on her and put Magnolia in his sights.

"Hey!" she called again.

"What do you want, Lucy?"

She wasn't discouraged by his parched tone. "Erza and Mira are having a baking battle—everyone is showing up and placing bets on who they think is better. Come place yours."

He didn't have to. "Mira is better." Everyone knew it.

Ahead of him, Magnolia stretched out like a welcoming spider's web. Something he could wander into and get caught in. It was a place that offered a way to forget. A salvation of sorts. _Do you want to remember, or do you want to bury her under liquor and girls?_

It seemed he was always living in perfect contradiction.

Lucy got level with him and when he wouldn't look at her, she got dead-centre in front of him. Her cheeks were stained pink and a strand of golden hair stuck to her lip-glossed mouth. Impatiently, she pushed it aside. "You think Mira's going to be better? Honestly, I don't think _either_ of them will be great, I mean," she laughed, "The she-devil and Titania? Come on. Who thought this was a good idea, right?"

"Excuse me." Loke started down the hill.

"Loke," Lucy said again and hurried to catch up. "Did I do something to make you mad?"

While he walked, he sucked on his tooth and considered his answer. On one hand, a lie might send her packing for good. On the other, it was torturously wonderful to be close to a celestial mage again, where he could feel the magic of the stars slipping out of her skin in ways she probably wasn't even aware of. He wanted to reach out and touch her hand; maybe that would bring him closer still.

"Loke?"

Loke, ever looking for disaster, it seemed, put on his best false grin and said, "You just make me crazy, Lucy. I can't stop thinking about you."

"What?"

"You wanna come out with me tonight?"

Lucy's face went through a myriad of expressions, shock, interest, embarrassment, and landing lastly on outrage. "I'm not going to be one of your conquests." She looked so pleased when she said it like she'd gotten one up on him.

Loke couldn't find it within himself to be ashamed, he could only drink in her presence, as if he was parched soil and she was the rain.

Lucy seemed to realize that he was staring longingly at her. Her skin got red. Shyly, she looked away and changed the subject. "Come to the bake off—usually I only ever get to see Erza wreck things, so this should be good."

Loke turned away from her and focused back on Magnolia. "No, thanks. I'll be at Daisy Chain if you change your mind." He named a popular bar in the centre of town.

Lucy asked, "Are you sure?"

Absolutely. If Lucy wasn't going to participate in his ruination the way he wanted, he'd find someone else. He lifted his hand above his head by way of response and got to walking. His leg stung and his skin pricked where he'd been nearest to her. It would have to do.

* * *

"Say my name."

"What?"

"Come on—I like it."

Loke pressed his thumbs hard into the girl's hips and adjusted his feet. A beer bottle knocked over on the dark, stained pavement and sent the foaming liquid trickling towards the gutter. The brunette tightened her legs around his waist and moaned when he slid deeper inside her.

"Please—say it. Please."

Loke gritted his teeth and pressed her harder against the alley wall. "Amanda—"

There was a moment of silence.

 _Fuck_.

The fingers loosened in his hair. "Abby."

Trying to ignore it, he kissed her neck and thrust into her again, even though she'd gone non-responsive. She tasted like sweat.

"Did you hear me?"

Loke closed his eyes for a beat and rested his cheek against hers. "Shhh."

She smacked his shoulder and pushed him back so he was forced to let her wriggle away. "No, don't tell me to shut up. It's Abby, you fuck stick. Who the hell is Amanda?"

"Sorry, Abby." He tried to come back for her.

"Not a chance. We've been doing this for weeks, Loke, and you can't remember my fucking name?"

"Amanda—" Maybe the last one was just to piss her off.

It worked. "Abby, you idiot. A-B-B-Y." She smacked his shoulder again, then grabbed the collar of her shirt, covering her breasts.

 _Well, that deteriorated fast_ , Loke thought mildly and, with a sigh, took a step away and tucked himself back into his pants. "Sure. Tomorrow, then?"

"Fuck yourself."

_Yep, that I can do quite well._

Abby adjusted her short skirt around her hips, then stooped and snatched up her beer-soaked purse. Without another word, she stumbled out of the alley, high-heels clacking loudly. One caught in the pavement and she almost went down.

Loke straightened his shirt, buttoning it up and sloppily tucking it back into his pants. His dick was still hard, but the erection was shrinking. Crouching, he picked up his spilled beer and held it up to the wavering street lamp. There were still a few fingers left in the bottom. He took them down in two gulps. It was flat and warm, but he drank it anyway. As soon as it was finished, he dropped the bottle to the ground. It broke into inch sized pieces and glittered.

His head swam. Drunkenly, he stumbled out behind Abby and chose a direction at random.

* * *

Two bars, four failed pickup attempts, and an entire paycheque later, Loke wandered Magnolia's streets alone. It had been years since he'd come to Fairy Tail, but there were still a lot of parts he didn't bother knowing. Anyplace without a bar? Forget it. Meaning he was lost in this segment with the canal system. Everything looked entirely new.

If he leaned over the ledge, he could see his reflection by the light of the moon. He looked ghostly pale. Beside his reflection, he imagined Karen. Her dark eyes were narrowed in a mean expression and her mouth was a flat line.

"You look like a ghost because you are one." She still had that waspish whip to her voice.

Loke denied her for the sake of it. "Not yet."

One of her blonde brows rose. "What's the holdup? Poor Leo the Lion hasn't suffered quite enough?"

Something like that.

"Don't pretend like you need to atone. You're just a coward, Loke."

"Quiet."

"Just a _coward_ , Loke." Her lips pursed around coward, over annunciating.

"Shut up."

" _Coward_ , Loke."

"I'm _not_." He denied her even as he lurched to his feet and stumbled back. He hit something solid and fell again, back toward the water. The whole scene played out in his mind in a millisecond. He'd fall in, it'd be so cold, his muscles would atrophy. _But would I drown?_ He knew the answer was no. He'd float around until either the almost non-existent current brought him downstream or someone bothered to pull him out.

It would hurt like hell though. It was still exhilarating; his heart, sodden with alcohol, beat faster. His head spun.

He was jerked back around again and this time, gravity took him down _beside_ the canal.

"Loke. Loke!"

His hands were hurting dully. He saw the glimmer of glass on pavement, and the shine of blood. It still took his brain a moment to make sense of things. He slid his hands through the mess.

"Loke!"

Solid hands grabbed his shoulders and reeled him back. Clumsily, Loke fell backwards on his rump and looked up at the sky. The lion constellation was empty, as it had been for a year. Then her face hovered over his and it was a girl he didn't expect.

"Loke? Can you hear me?"

Not Karen. Her hair was luminous by the moonlight, almost like a golden halo. "Lucy." Her name was _Lucy_.

"Loke, what the hell are you doing out here, stumbling around the water? It's only spring, you know? You'd freeze if you fell in."

He snorted and did his best to roll over and get to his feet. He fell again and caught all of his weight on his palms. "Sonofabitch." He was being dramatic; his hands were certainly torn open, but the pain was dulled under so much alcohol.

Lucy fawned over him, kneeling down and grabbing his wrists between tight fingers. Her magic pricked over his skin just like he knew it would; he held his breath and closed his eyes; he couldn't help it. _She's like home._ Almost. The memory thereof. The scent of it caught in passing. It still gave him heartache.

Lucy yanked her hand away at first and shook out her fingers. She looked at him curiously; Loke wasn't in any shape to decipher what she thought she'd felt. She forgot about it a second later.

"You're bleeding pretty bad." Her dark eyes lifted up to meet his. She looked worried and a little disgusted while she took in his unevenly buttoned shirt, beer-stained clothes and alcohol-drenched breath.

 _I'm a mess_ , Loke realized. To top it all off, he kind of wanted to throw up at her feet. He swallowed down the urge if only because it would leave a bad impression.

"Loke?" Lucy asked again. The panic was rising in her voice. "Are you alright?"

 _Say something_. "Fine." His voice was entirely too rough. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Excuse me." Pulling away from her was hard; standing was even worse.

"Woah—where are you going?" She stood along with him and grabbed his arm. "Wait, you're bleeding."

Loke left his arm in her grasp, reveling at that sensation. Little magic fires danced between them, nearly imperceptible now. He didn't think Lucy felt it the way he did and if she _did_ , she wasn't saying anything.

"Where's home, Loke? Can I walk you there?"

"Mmm." His eyes slipped closed for a second. "Home?"

"Yeah."

"I'm lost," he blurted, then cackled at his own private and self-depreciative joke. Leo the Lion was very, very lost indeed, and Loke, the Fairy Tail mage, was right there with him. "I don't know this part of town."

Lucy sighed heavily. "I don't usually do this kind of thing, especially after you were so rude to me, but… come in and I'll fix up those cuts for you, and then we can figure this out."

"Have any beer?"

"Water."

There was a moment where Loke felt crestfallen, then he remembered that he had what he wanted, he knew that he could _feel_ the celestial realm through her, and that was more than enough. He'd overstayed his welcome. "I gotta go."

His first step away from her was erratic. Lucy grabbed his collar and yanked him backwards away from the water again. "It's this way," she said definitively and started guiding him in the opposite direction.

"What?"

"You want to go _this_ way," she said again. "Trust me."

Distantly, he knew she was deceiving him, that he was going exactly the way she wanted him to, but he couldn't do a thing to stop her.

A plain wood door appeared in front of them. Lucy opened it with a key and revealed a hallway illuminated by only a nightlight. She guided him toward it. Loke imagined that glow was the spirit realm and Lucy was pushing him toward it. His skin sang _louder_ than before and Lucy shivered.

Loke tripped and the spell was broken. He caught himself on his torn palms. The pain was somehow both blunt and vague, leading him to believe, "That's gonna sting tomorrow, innit?"

"Sure is," Lucy agreed. "Up we go." She grabbed him by the back of the coat and pulled. His knife fell from his pocket and bounced along the stairway. Loke moved faster than he had all night to retrieve it. He couldn't be without it.

"What's that?"

For a moment, it was like his mind had cleared of fog. "Nothin'." He looked at Lucy again, shadowed but still somehow glowing to his eyes, and he lost all of his faculties. Her hair silked through his fingers. "You're beautiful."

Lucy looked frozen between disgust and a smile. That changed quickly when Loke started to lean in. She grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted him around so he was facing north. "Get up those stairs."

Loke did as he was told, though stopped again half-way up because another door opened and a short, plump woman poked her head out. She fixed Lucy with a glare. "Do you know what time it is, girl?"

Lucy's voice got squeaky. "So sorry, ma'am. We'll be quiet."

The woman slammed her door hard. Loke asked, "Who was that?"

"My landlady," Lucy hissed.

"She's grouchy." Loke opened his mouth to add something crude that he knew Lucy certainly wouldn't appreciate, but Lucy spoke over him.

"Not one more word. Not until we get inside, otherwise you'll be paying my rent."

"Mm..." Loke grunted. "I spent all my money, but you can come stay with me."

"Not a chance." Lucy leaned in and wrapped his arm around her neck and again, he brushed by the celestial realm.

"You feel good." The words were out before he could think better of it.

Lucy flushed. "I told you to be quiet until we get inside."

"Oh," he said in a loud whisper. "Right."

Lucy rolled her eyes and pulled him along. He did his best to help her, but he mostly he just sent her off balance.

"Why are we here?"

She said nothing, only worried her lip. He focused on it too much and forgot his inquisition.

At the top of the stairs, Lucy stopped at her door and went rooting through her pocket for her keys. The celestial ones were the first to come out, silver and gold and glittering. Though Loke knew she carried them, he still started. Lucy looked at him peculiarly.

"What's wrong?"

 _Don't touch them_ , Loke thought, but he was reaching. Lucy realized what he was doing and tucked the keys into her palm. "Sorry. Aquarius doesn't like it when people touch her key. Not even me, I think. But if you want, you can look at Plue's?"

That was just as well. "No."

Lucy let it lie. She pulled out her regular keys and opened her apartment up with a squealing wheeze of the old hinges.

The scent of a lavender candle wrapped around Loke, though it wasn't lit, it was just that fragrant. He breathed it in. Lucy took his elbow. On the way in, he stubbed his toe on the door frame and almost went crashing into her, but caught himself before that could happen. Lucy adjusted so he was leaning mostly against her side. She was too small for this kind of work and bent badly. Loke over-corrected and they were having the opposite problem now, he was leaning back too far and she was coming with him.

Lucy huffed and pushed him sideways so he went not out the front door again but was forced against the wall. Loke closed his eyes and laughed. Lucy wouldn't join him. It killed his good mood.

She turned on the lights and Loke caught his first look into Lucy's private life. There were a few dishes in the sink, a throw folded neatly over the couch, shoes side by side at the front door and a few odd photos on the walls, mostly of her and a woman Loke had to assume was her mother. They could have been twins.

"Nice digs."

"Thanks," Lucy responded.

"Beer?" he asked again.

She looked at him patiently. "You can hardly stand, Loke."

"I'm good," he lied.

"I think not."

He sighed, knowing somewhere in his drink-addled brain that she was right. Morning was going to bring a whole lot of regret.

"Come on." Lucy pulled him through her living room, toward the washroom and Loke followed. The wooden floor turned into tile and lavender scent made way for cherry shampoo.

Lucy held his shoulders and pushed him down on the toilet seat, then she flicked on the light. Without her holding him up, Loke gradually slid down and was okay with that. He didn't want to be sitting or standing anymore, anyway.

Lucy pursed her lips disapprovingly but said only, "Just stay here for a minute. And if you're going to be sick, don't you dare do it on the floor. In the toilet or nothing, got that?"

Loke focused on her with bleary eyes. "Sure, Lucy."

She disappeared.

In the silence, Loke's mind ticked along slowly. He thought maybe he should be embarrassed, but he was too messed up to really put the pieces together and figure out why. _That'll come tomorrow._

It took him forever to lift his chin up from his chest and open his eyes to take in his surroundings, but when he did, he saw that the tile under his body was white and blue flecked, clean but old. Next to him was a huge vanity. There were a few chips around the sink like someone had dropped something heavy. The walls were off-white. Maybe they'd been pristine at some point in their life, but whoever had owned the apartment before Lucy had smoked and now they were forever stained. The bathtub was giant, white-painted steel and deep. Behind the clear curtain was a black lace bra hung to dry on a metal hook for a loofa, and over the edge of the tub was a plush pink towel that had been bunched up and left rather unceremoniously, like she'd been rushing that morning.

Loke dropped his gaze to his red-stained hands. He was bleeding quite a bit. The red dribbled down his fingertips and pattered against his pants and tile. He sniffed depreciatively and rubbed his fingers together. The blood was viscous and dark, congealing, but even slower than before.

_Soon, you're going to cut yourself and you're going to heal like a regular man. Soon, you're going to cut yourself and you won't heal at all._

Through his coat, the blade pressing against his heart felt heavy and cold; he dreamed of taking it out. _Like I'm an addict_. Not exactly itching for self-demolition, but unable to turn away.

Lucy chose that moment to fill up the doorway. "Hey."

Loke started and lifted his gaze. The knife had been halfway out; he hadn't even realized he'd reached for it. He released it and it fell heavily to the bottom of his pocket and lay there, benign for the time being. "Hey."

In her hand was a small black bag. She came in, knelt between his legs and took his hands in hers. Just like before, Loke felt her magic thrumming. He closed his eyes and let it torture him in the sweetest, most vicious way possible. That feeling. It was what he was born in to, and now… it would never be his again. But it was close enough to touch and he wanted to pretend like it was his if only because he liked the way it felt when it was torn away. It was the cruelest part.

Lucy worked quietly and without flinching.

"Do you do this a lot?"

"I used to play by myself a lot in the woods," she said matter-of-factly. "My mom was gone and my dad was busy and the servants couldn't keep track of me. I'd have to patch myself up."

He thought something like this may have been out of her wheelhouse but Lucy was handling herself, cleaning his palms so she could see, and then pulling out any bits of glass with tweezers. It hurt and when he swore about it, she apologized.

She was done in minutes. Too soon, yet, not soon enough.

Lucy grabbed out her gauze and set about putting the final touches on his palms. "The bleeding's slowed, but you might think about getting stitches."

"I'll be fine," Loke said after a moment.

Lucy sighed and started to put away her things. "Why were you out by yourself?"

He cracked an eye and peered at her through his lashes. "Mm…" His tongue felt heavy so he lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug.

"Loke?" Lucy got to her knees and pushed his hair back from his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Sure. Perfect."

Knocking on the front door took her critical look away. "Wait here." She disappeared again.

It was hard to say how long had passed but just as Loke was starting to drift to sleep, a figure appeared in the doorway. Lucy had gotten a lot bigger and had lost some weight in the front and behind.

 _Because that's not Lucy_ , Loke realized when the person stepped closer and he could really focus on the dark hair and scruff on his face. _Gray_.

Gray crouched by his side and tapped his face unnecessarily. "Get up. You can't crash on Lucy's floor."

Loke squinted at him. "Pretty sure I didn't take you home."

"Pretty sure you didn't even take yourself home," Gray said briskly. "Get up." When grabbed Loke by the elbow and hauled him to his feet, Loke put all of his weight on Gray; he didn't fold like Lucy had.

Lucy appeared at Gray's elbow. "Are you sure you don't want help?"

"I can handle him, Lucy," Loke told her with a rakish grin.

She rolled her eyes and looked at Gray. Gray said, "We're good. Just get the door."

Lucy did as he said, holding it wide so they could stumble out. "Thanks again."

"Yeah. Thanks for taking care of him."

The door closed and they were in the near-dark stairwell again. Despite his assurances, Loke felt himself slip out of Gray's grip twice. The first time, he was caught by the back of the shirt, the second, by the arm. The skin pinched; he'd have a bruise there tomorrow.

Once they were outside, Loke breathed in the cool air greedily.

Gray asked, "What the fuck are you doing, getting smashed and showing up at Lucy's?"

Loke grunted noncommittally.

"She said you almost fell into the canal," Gray continued.

"Exaggerated. I was just looking."

"Like you were just walking down the fucking train tracks last time."

"I told you, I didn't hear that train."

"It was a _train_."

"It was quiet."

"Bullshit."

"It's fine," Loke slurred. "I'm fine."

Gray repeated, "Bullshit."

Loke's stomach felt too heavy to continue a pointless argument. He swallowed.

Gray held him out at arm's length. "Don't puke in my shoes. If you gotta do that, let me know."

"I'm not gonna."

"That's what you said last time and I had to throw out my clothes."

"I'm _fine._ "

Gray knew better and held him out a little further. "Some chick came by the guild looking for you today."

"Eh?" Loke's first thought was Abby. "Brunette, big tits?" If she didn't kick his ass before, she definitely would when she heard how he described her.

"She was a cotton top. I think she was a client, looking to hire you or something."

 _Hire me_. Loke wanted to laugh, but he was afraid if he opened his mouth he'd throw up.

"She said she'd be by again tomorrow." Loke stumbled and almost brought Gray down with him. Gray cussed and dragged him upright again, bringing him closer than before. "You're a fucking mess."

Loke couldn't respond. The world was spinning viciously, Karen was back to whispering in his ear, taunting him. Black spots appeared in front of his eyes.

He leaned away from Gray and puked in the gutter but he still managed to get it in Gray's boots.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up the next morning was like pulling sticky strands of spider's web from his eyes. Loke's head was all cotton and detachment. His mouth was drier than a desert and tasted sour like bile. Everything ached and he was cold to boot.

He blinked bleary eyes and focused on white tile. _Tile_ , he wondered. His bathroom was linoleum. His eyes roamed to a silver fauceted sink. That was wrong, too. His faucets were copper. And the bathtub he was crunched in? Painted blue steel. If he squinted at it sideways, it looked familiar. He'd woken up here before.

He glanced down at his chest. He'd been stripped to his shorts. He only had one friend good enough to do that for him. And there were his boots, sitting between Loke's feet. They stunk.

"Fuck."

"That's what I'm saying."

Loke rolled his head on the tile wall and found Gray pissing just steps away. He faced away from Loke but looked over his shoulder, a knot between his brows. _That's what woke me up?_ Yeah. Of all things. _There are worse ways to wake_ , he thought and tried to think of one.

Nothing was coming to mind.

Loke pushed himself up a little higher. Moving was a mistake; his stomach roiled. Whatever was left in his system tried to come up again. Being utterly motionless helped the sickness pass. When he could, he asked, "Why am I here?" His voice cracked.

Gray shook, then zipped up his pants and faced him. "Why? A few reasons, asshole. Number one: you stumbled your ass to Lucy's late last night and she called me to pick you up. Really happy about that. Number two: I got you all the way home, and you decided you had no idea where your keys were. Which, by the way, you found again when we showed up here, but I wasn't about to walk your ass back. Number three: you fucking puked on my boots and I wanted you nice and close so you could clean them first thing this morning."

Loke closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his temples. His hands burned. "Fuck..." He was knuckle to wrist with dirt-stained bandages.

"Oh yeah," Gray added, "and you took a dive, found some glass. Sweet, right? Lucy patched you up."

Loke grunted noncommittally.

"You owe her big. She said you were trying to go for a swim, she stopped you." Gray was utterly blunt for the first time Loke could recall. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" Usually, they just skimmed over Loke's penchant for the reckless and called it _drunk_.

All Loke could do was tip his head back against the cold bathroom tile and laugh.

Gray wasn't buying into the humour. "You think this is funny? What the fuck is going on with you? There was that train—"

"That was an _accident_." This conversation felt familiar.

"And then there was that wyrm you were hired to take out but you never showed up for the job."

"I was getting to it."

"And now you have new clients that've been looking for you and you haven't been by the guild in a week to even bother getting back to them." He was just getting more agitated.

"I've been busy."

"And who's paying your rent?"

"I got money saved," Loke lied.

Gray wasn't buying it for a _second._ "That chick from yesterday might hire you so maybe you can make rent this month but not if she sees you like this."

Loke almost said _whatever_ and quit Fairy Tail right there, but, as he told Karen, it wasn't quite time yet. Instead, he sighed and opened his eyes. Not quite ready to look at Gray, he stared at the bathtub's calcium-encrusted faucet and tried to drum up the dexterity to get the fuck up. "Where're my clothes?"

"Garbage," Gray said after a moment. "I took out your shit, but you hurled all over them and I wasn't going to be your maid. If you really want them, you can climb into the dumpster and get them yourself."

He wasn't all that attached to them, just… "My knife?"

Gray crossed his arms and nodded to the bathroom counter. "And your wallet, if you care."

"It's empty." Loke planted his hands against the bottom of the tub and pushed himself into a sitting position. The room spun even harder.

"Don't puke on my floor." Gray looked at his boots. "Or on those again. You'll be buying me a new pair if you do."

Loke closed his eyes and focused on breathing.

"Lucy's on her way over," Gray said.

_That_ sobered him up some. "Here?"

"Yeah."

" _Why_?"

"She called this morning to make sure you got home okay, and I told her no, that you're here. She wanted to come by and check on you. Who was I to say no?"

"Uh," Loke said sarcastically, "How about the owner of this house?" The answer seemed so obvious. "Tell her to go away."

Gray was unfazed. "I wanted her to come over."

Loke looked at him exasperatedly. "You're an asshole."

"You're the one sitting mostly naked in my tub," Gray replied. "Get up and shower, I'll give you some clothes."

Loke flipped him off. Gray was again unmoved. "And, that woman's coming back to the guild after lunch, so you have an hour." He grabbed a scrub brush and a bottle of soap from beneath the sink. "Here, clean my boots before you do anything." He threw both. Loke missed each, catching them with his bare chest. Gray left.

Loke sat there for another moment, trying to determine if he felt good enough to just get up and leave so he could avoid Lucy. _Yeah. Walk through town mostly naked, why not? See if you can get arrested, too._ Or hunted down by Gray. There was no way he was going to let him leave without cleaning his boots and Loke wasn't feeling well enough to outrun him. _Maybe if you're quick, you can get them clean, shower and get out of here before she shows._

His pep talk was weak but it still managed to get him vertical. The dry bathtub squeaked under his bare skin, obnoxious and loud and his head throbbed. "Got something for a migraine?"

From the other room, Gray slammed his cupboard and came back into the washroom, three small white pills in hand and a tall glass of water. "I'm _not_ a nursemaid."

"Sure? You'd look sweet in a maid's uniform," Loke tried to joke. It came out half-assed and didn't earn him anything other than another dark look.

"Next time you do this, I'm going to put _you_ in a maid's uniform and leave you out front of Daisy Chain with a sign that says, 'free bitch.' Maybe a guy like Elfman will come and pick you up and do some good with you, yeah?"

Loke tossed back the pills with a mouthful of water. As soon as the liquid hit his stomach, he tried to bring it all back up again. Pure willpower kept it down. When it was safe, he said more seriously, "Thanks, man."

Gray left again. Loke took down the rest of the water and dropped the glass onto the counter.

Before he did anything, he took Gray's boots and scrubbed them—not as well as he could have, anytime he leaned over, his head felt like it was splitting in two—but enough that they at least smelled better.

With that done, he rinsed the bathtub, then worked on getting the bandages off his hands. The skin underneath was red with old blood and pale from being wrapped up so tight. Lucy was no expert, but she did well enough. The cuts themselves were deep, and only the very edges of them had bothered to heal. A little nick would change all of that.

He glanced at his knife on Gray's bathroom counter. Its wooden handle blazed in the overhead light like it was his salvation. Though he wanted to grab it, he made himself look away and turn on the shower. The water that poured out of the taps was already hot, almost blisteringly so. He didn't adjust it.

Gray came in again and dropped clothes onto the counter. Still silent, he took his boots and disappeared.

Loke allowed himself only ten minutes of soaking. He was red-skinned when he turned off the water and the mirror was fogged despite the door being cracked open. He dried with one of Gray's rough cotton towels and hopped into the clothes Gray left. They mostly fit. They were all wrong, though. Gray tried too hard to show off what he had, in Loke's opinion. Where was the subtlety in wearing a shirt so tight, girls could count your muscle fibers? Nothing said Desperate Douche more.

He still managed to take girls home, though.

Somewhere in the middle of pondering that conundrum, Loke realized that he felt better, His hangover was just a faint throbbing in the back of his head and his stomach was… okay. It was a small, windy lake, not an ocean in hurricane season. His mouth was still drier than sand, but now that he felt better, he was able to fill the glass Gray left behind with cold water and chug it all back. He did that enough times that he was so full he felt sick for a new reason.

The door down the hall opened and a clear, familiar sounding voice filled the house. Lucy was there and he'd run out of time.

Loke slammed the bathroom door with some force and finished getting dressed. The buttons on the pants posed a bit of a problem but he was _not_ asking Gray to come in and button up his dick flap. It was weird enough that he was in his underwear.

Lucy queried, "Where is he?" and Gray responded,

"Washroom."

Loke again considered the window. He _could_ fit out that little hole, right?

_And hide from her because you're embarrassed you crashed her apartment last night?_

Karen whispered in his ear, "I told you, you're a fucking coward. Go ahead. Run, Loke. Run. Run from her. _"_

If he squinted just right, Loke thought he could see a spot in the foggy mirror, darker than the others. "Shut up."

"Or?"

"Just shut up."

Tapping on the door had Loke's heart palpitating. "Yeah."

Gray asked, "Alright?"

"Yeah. Just a sec." His whole neck was hot. He was used to talking to Karen but only ever did so when he was alone. He was slipping.

Karen laughed; that laughter petered out as she faded from reality. If she'd ever been there at all.

Loke pushed back his hair from his forehead and scrubbed his cheeks, trying to scare off his blush. It was a lost cause.

He grabbed his knife off the counter, his wallet and his keys and thrust them all in his pocket. Then he faced the bathroom door. _I don't want to go out there._ Not at all. What was he even supposed to say? ' _Sorry for being the waste of skin that showed up on your doorstep last night, too drunk to tie my own shoe?'_

It would be better if it'd just never happened but even when he _did_ have his magic, going back in time wasn't something he could do. _So she thinks you're a waste of skin, what does it matter?_ Old habits died hard; it was hardwired in him to be good for celestial mages. He stupidly wanted to impress her.

Putting on the best indifferent face he could manage, he opened the bathroom door and marched out with authority.

Gray's house was small and quaint, with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen with a white stove and fridge. The paint was chipped from each. The sink was piled with yesterday's dishes, and there was a bowl of going-off fruit on the linoleum countertop.

Steps away was the living room where a green threadbare couch, a matching loveseat and a scuffed coffee table waited. They were the only things Gray bothered to decorate with. Currently, the couch was occupied. Lucy and Gray sat close together and spoke quietly. _About you or is Gray just trying to get into her pants?_ Both, maybe. Loke was quick to discover that he liked neither answer better than the other.

He avoided their gazes for as long as he could. He snagged a mostly soft apple from Gray's fruit bowl and poured himself a cup of coffee from the coffee pot Gray left on the counter. The latter was lukewarm. Loke avoided milk as to not cool it down any further. After taking a sip, he decided that it still needed sugar. Gray's coffee was shit. At home, he went rooting through the cupboard for a crystalized sugar cube and dropped it in. He used his finger to stir.

The living room whispers died back when they realized he was out.

"Hey, Loke," Lucy said tentatively.

Loke composed himself before turning. He practiced each of his expressions in the mirror and knew this smile looked boyish and breezy and charming. "Hey."

"How are your hands?"

He flashed her his free palm lightning fast so she couldn't see how much it'd healed already. "On the mend. Thanks."

"You should get them looked at, it was pretty bad last night. Do you want me to come with you? I know a good doctor in Magnolia—Natsu likes to use him," she offered.

Loke said, "They're really not that bad. Besides," he checked the clock. It was 11:30. "I have to get to the guild, gotta meet a client there."

That earned him a nod of approval from Gray and a troubled look from Lucy. "Oh. I'll walk back with you then—"

"No, thanks," Loke said immediately. Hurt flashed through Lucy's eyes. He thought about apologizing, but it was better if she would just fuck off and leave him alone, even if feeling her magic was a unique, addicting torment.

_That you could milk out for just a little bit longer._ She wouldn't be any wiser to it and neither would Gray. How _could_ they be?

Before he could get any dumb ideas, he chugged back the coffee, dropped the cup into the sink and addressed Gray. "Thanks for letting me stay here. I'll stop by later and drop these off." He pulled at the shirt.

"Sure," Gray agreed. "This job you're going for is a team job, though."

Loke was at the door well ahead of when he stopped speaking and was putting on his shoes. "I don't work in teams, everyone knows that."

Gray said something else but Loke wasn't listening to it, he had his shoes on and was out the door with home in his sights. He could at least get a pair of socks before he met this woman and presumably told her he would not be taking the job, thank you very much.

* * *

Only Jet lounged in a Fairy Tail booth, nursing his drink and his lovesick heart. Loke thought about joining him, however, a woman came out of Master Makarov's office, catching his eye and halting his progress. She was older, with silver hair and the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen. Lithe, elegant, and richly dressed, she smiled to Makarov when he ushered her out. "Thank you anyway, Mister Makarov. I suppose I'll have to find a new mage; I'll consider your other suggestions."

Loke checked his watch. It was five after two. It had taken him longer to get there than he'd anticipated.

"I hope that you find someone from our guild to your liking. Having a client like you, Missus Agnatic…" Makarov spotted Loke. "...Actually, there's the boy."

Loke couldn't tell if Makarov was relieved or not… he kind of looked like he'd swallowed a sour grape… _Maybe he's mad_? Maybe Loke didn't give much of a fuck.

"Oh! Excellent!" Missus Agnatic turned. "So this is the famous Loke!"

Loke pulled at his rumpled shirt—he'd traded Gray's for one of his own, and now he wished he hadn't. This one was a little musty. "Hey."

"Missus Agnatic is visiting us all the way from her mayor's office in Port Gale, Loke. Isn't that nice?" There was a warning in the old man's words that only a fool could miss. He had a choice now, sabotage himself or strive to be a good Fairy Tail mage. The only problem with the former was, he'd be sabotaging Fairy Tail, too. Loke thought he had it all figured out before stepping into the guild hall but now that the opportunity was ahead of him…

Loke pulled out his best, apologetic smile and corrected himself. "Good afternoon."

Makarov nodded at him approvingly and Miss Agnatic's smile turned warm.

"It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard such good things from Mister Makarov."

It was unusual for Master Makarov to mettle in their affairs, unless, of course, he felt there was reason to. There was only one reason he'd feel that way, though, and his name was Gray. Loke's smile froze. "He's generous."

"And Loke's modest." Makarov clapped him on the back. "If you'll excuse me, I have some affairs to put in order.

The old man waddled away and it was just Loke and the cotton top. She was used to navigating awkward conversations and steered this one aptly. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"My pleasure," Loke said the words but there was no weight behind them.

"When Mister Makarov stepped forward and said he had a solution to Port Gale's problems, I was so relieved, truly. It's so nice of you to agree to this job, and convenient that you've had so much experience in this line of work."

Someone had been talking up his game. Loke was lagging behind, missing key pieces of the puzzle. "Can we go over the details again? Just so we're both clear?"

She looked sheepish. "Of course. I apologize. Port Gale's been plagued with thugs. They're praying on our tourists in the entertainment district, waiting until it's late and then relieving them of their personal effects." That was a nice way of saying that they were waiting until people were smashed and then robbing them blind. "It's a small group of them. It's been a month and the authorities have their hands full with the sailors that come to port. They get rowdy after being at sea for so long."

Fairy Tail's door opened. Loke heard metal bouncing against skin and knew it was Gray without turning around. His cross always made that noise when he was walking quickly. He suspected that he'd go to one of the booths and wait, but he came right to Loke's side.

"Sorry I'm late. I got caught at the train tracks. What'd I miss?"

"This is your partner?" Missus Agnatic asked.

Gray spoke up so Loke couldn't. "Yes, Ma'am. Gray Fullbuster." He popped out his hand and shook hers vigorously. Loke rubbed his middle finger over his sliced palm, hoping that she wouldn't expect the same from him.

"Excellent. You'll be able to come immediately?"

"Once we have travelling figured out, yeah," Gray sounded a million miles away. Loke was hardly listening, trying to brainstorm how to ditch him. He _didn't_ do team jobs.

Missus Agnatic reached into her pocket and came out with a fat envelope. "This should cover your travelling expenses, and any other expenses you need to blend in with Port Gale's nightlife."

Loke refocused. "You're giving us bar money?"

She looked shocked. Gray rushed to do damage control. "It's nice that we don't have to go out of pocket up front. Thank you, Ma'am."

It was obvious she was much more charmed with Gray. Loke let him have it.

Missus Agnatic stayed for another ten minutes, giving Gray the details that Loke supposed he should be listening to. He sat at the nearest booth before she left and only smiled when she was on her way out, figuring that _maximum effort_ could be dialed down a little, now that she was so taken with his supposed partner.

He looked around the guild and realized that Lucy had followed Gray in. She was sitting way at the back watching everything, but mostly him. Her eyes dug into his skin and he thought she saw too much. He wasn't able to break eye contact with her. Not when Gray returned, sans Missus Agnatic, not when Lucy rose from her seat and joined them.

"Did you want to come on this job, Lucy?" Gray asked immediately after she sat.

That got Loke's attention. "What?"

Gray said, "We could use another set of hands, a girl to lure them in."

Lucy glowed. "I'd love to. It sounds like a blast."

Loke knew her type. She loved to play the damsel, even if she wasn't one. "No one's going to fall for that archaic jig."

"Then you be the damsel and I'll be the saviour," Lucy said immediately.

She was already scheming. Loke never felt like he had much control lately but he felt what little he did manage to snag evaporating.

"I don't need partners."

"Yeah, you do," Gray informed him. "That's why I asked Master to get approval for two mages."

Loke narrowed his eyes. "I hate you."

"Mutuals."

"What about Natsu and Erza?" Loke asked, trying to find a spike to jam in the wheel before things could get too far.

"Natsu and Happy wanted to take a few days off," Lucy replied. "And Erza is on an S class mission for the council…"

Loke couldn't see a way out. Not a graceful one, anyway.

"I'm catching the four o'clock train. I have to pack first. I'll meet you at the station?"

"Perfect, that's just enough time for me to get ready," Lucy announced.

"See you there." Gray stood, Lucy followed him. Loke waited until they were out of the door before moving himself, but once he was outside, he made a run for it, breaking through the streets toward his house at a pace that made his tired and abused body gripe. He wasn't sure what he was doing. Running away, maybe, a coward just like Karen said. And so what? He'd planned on leaving Fairy Tail anyway. What was the difference if he did it today or tomorrow?

* * *

Loke figured he still had two hours so he made time for the basic things. He _did_ get his clothes together and he gathered cologne and deodorant from his bathroom cabinet. When he closed the mirror again, he paused. He thought _everyone_ looked bad beneath fluorescent lights but today, he looked particularly sallow.

"It's happening." Karen was barely a wisp appearing at his elbow, foggy and distant, but real enough that Loke felt the chill of her breath on his ear. "You could cut yourself now. You might not even heal. You wouldn't have to run then and find a nice quiet place to die like an animal. You could just do it right here."

Loke worried the pad of his finger over the open wounds on his palms. She could be onto something. His body was trying its hardest to heal already, how would it do under more stress?

"Go ahead."

His heart turned with nerves at this new prospect. _What if I_ never _heal?_ He'd always had that fallback, the knowledge that whatever happened, he'd always be okay.

"This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it?" Karen prodded.

"It's what I deserve." Which was different.

"Do it, Loke. Do it. Do it."

He was already. Blood spotted the sink and his floor, too. Karen hung around for a full twenty minutes, baiting him and waiting for the worst to happen. They both came to the same conclusion at the same time. "Try again tomorrow."

Karen left him alone. Loke had to wait another twenty minutes before moving. He felt lightheaded and his arm stung. He cleaned the bathroom floor and the sink because guilt came and he didn't want his landlord to think badly of him if he didn't come back from this job. He slapped tape on his arm then so the blood didn't seep into his clothes, and grabbed his bag on the way out the door.

Sun shone off pale gold and Loke paused. There were Lucy and Gray sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the concrete wall of a barely green flowerbed. Gray was saying something that made her laugh and when she laughed, her whole face lit up.

Loke found it difficult to be annoyed that they were there when that sound was in his ears. Would going on a job with her be _so bad_?

Yes.

It would be positively toxic, yet he could feel her magic and torture himself unceasingly at her side, so maybe that was okay. Maybe he could put off leaving for just one more day.

Lucy had her arms planted behind her hips and her legs crossed. Her chin was tipped up while she watched puffy white clouds whirl over the azure sky, a dreamy look in her eye. Loke's heart panged, partially because she was beautiful sitting there, a vision of what every celestial mage should be, partially because her magic just poured out of her skin unwittingly. It was like standing in a river after someone had pulled logs from the dam. He could easily see himself getting swept downstream. Biting his cheek hard and grabbing the still open cut on his arm helped to keep him from falling to his knees.

"Hey, man," Gray said when he noticed him.

"Hey," Loke replied.

"You got all your stuff?"

There hadn't been any fooling him. Loke sighed. "Yeah. Let's get something to eat on the way."

"What kinds of food do you like, Loke?" Lucy asked brightly.

"Don't really have a preference," Loke said.

"Good," she told him. "I know the perfect place. We can stop there after we go to see that doctor about your hands."

Immediately, he said, "I don't need to see a doctor."

Lucy pouted. "Those cuts were really bad, Loke."

"They're okay."

"They didn't look that way last night."

Loke looked at her for a moment too long, staring at her while she spoke, and thus was too late in realizing that she had come to his side and taken his wrist between her fingers. Her magic played over his skin delicately, trying to tease an agonized moan from his mouth. She felt it, too, her brows were furrowed and her lips were pursed thoughtfully. Loke told himself to pull away from her but he was completely trapped. His skin tingled and he could _feel_ the skin on his palms stitch together. Just being near her, it was like sidling one foot into the celestial realm.

She said a few words that just _whooshed_ by his ears without his brain comprehending. Then she smiled and it was heartrending. Any faculties he _did_ have left went up in a cloud of smoke.

"Alright?" Lucy asked.

"Sure," Loke said, though he had no idea what he was agreeing to.

"This way." She released him and pointed down a little road he didn't typically frequent. Gray rolled his eyes and Loke puzzled everything together. He was an idiot and they were going to the doctors. He couldn't think of a way to duck out of it gracefully, though, so he continued, though he knew the doctor wouldn't do much for him.

The doctor was an older man with round glasses, a huge moustache and a burning pipe sticking out of his mouth. He saw Loke immediately and worked methodically, cleaning the cuts, on his palm and on his arm, and sewing them up with black thread. He was quiet, some of the only words he spoke being, "Don't leave it for so long next time."

Loke promised if it happened again that he'd come see him sooner—it was easier to just agree—and paid him. Then they were on the move again.

An hour passed with Lucy looking pleased with herself and Gray complaining about Natsu. They passed a point that looked out over the ocean bay and Gray changed his tune. "We're not going to make it to Port Gale before tonight. We can make camp and set out in the morning."

Lucy gave him a deadpan look. "We're in Hargeon."

"Yeah," Gray agreed. "There's a camp spot—"

"Well, you can sleep on the ground and freeze tonight, I'm getting a hotel room."

Gray looked to Loke for help. "What do you think?"

"Huh?" Loke asked. He hadn't been listening.

"Camping, or hotel?"

There certainly wasn't any beer in the forest. "Hotel." Agnatic's money burned a hole through his pocket, and his hangover was but a distant memory now.

Gray puffed out his cheeks. "Fine, whatever, but let's get someplace cheap, I'm almost broke."

"That we can both agree on," Loke said.

* * *

Cheap meant a place called Blue Boots Motel and Inn. It was dingy, in need of a fresh coat of paint on the outside, and dirty in the lobby, full of dust and nests of dirt in the corners. Lucy looked disappointed.

"You could find someplace else," Loke said on a whim as they climbed the rickety stairs to their rooms, unsure if he'd rather that she stay or leave.

Lucy caught up the hem of her shirt and pulled at its back. "I'm not staying by myself."

"Hey, I know it's shitty out here, but it's not so bad in the rooms," Gray said to make her feel better. "We've stayed here before, right, Loke?"

Loke knew that it wouldn't take much to bully Lucy out of the motel, he also knew that he wanted her close. "Yea, it was alright." So he could feel the celestial realm for just a little longer.

She sighed. "If you say so."


	4. Chapter 4

Loke's room was smaller and filthier than he remembered, though, to be fair, the last time he and Gray had been there was a few months ago. The nature of their visit had been work-related, catching a criminal hanging around Hargeon's seediest bar, the Pour House, and once the job was done, they'd celebrated at the Pour House, too. Judging the room's decor and cleanliness wasn't really on his to do list afterwards.

Months later and sober, the room was dingy. Questionable. The bedspread was dull yellow and scattered with cigarette burns left behind by some careless smoker, the pillows were flat and covered with papery linens, the floor was grey carpet stained dark at irregular intervals. He didn't want to guess what left that behind.

In the bathroom, the toilet's porcelain was discoloured, the white tainted dark yellow by the water. Next to it, the bathtub dripped ceaselessly.

Was Lucy's room this dismal? Part of him wanted to go check. _Because you care and you're going to suggest moving to a different hotel or because you just want to be around her_? He knew himself well enough to intuit the answer to that.

There would be plenty of time for bad decisions later. For now, he wanted to get out of this place; Karen was there mocking him for the doctor's stitches and for his growing infatuation and he was dying to shut her out.

* * *

The Pour House was almost empty when he first arrived, but two hours later, a live band took the stage and the place filled up. Predictably with sailors. And women. A couple that were both. And a few guys that might have been dock workers.

A woman sat down next to him, one with long, blue hair that, under the right light, looked pale green. Seeing her made his guts drop away. Usually, Karen didn't make such public appearances. Then she turned and smiled and he realized he was wrong. This woman was alive and though her features were similar, they weren't quite right. Her nose was rounder, her cheeks fuller. She was also a little thicker around the waist, making her softer in all the ways that Karen hadn't been.

It was still rattling.

Loke gave up beer for whisky, deciding that he wasn't drunk enough, and moved away from the bar without saying a word to the girl.

In the back corner of the crowded room sat two girls that looked startlingly alike, twins with short, dark bob cuts, lively hazel eyes and full mouths that were good at smiling and probably plenty else if he could find it within himself to be charming enough.

As he got closer, he realized there was another man lingering around their table talking awkwardly. Loke didn't care. Confidently, he crossed the room and deposited himself down in the bench across from them.

"Ladies." The man made a strangled noise of protest and glared at Loke. Loke ignored him. "Can I get you guys a drink?"

" _I_ was just asking them that," the man said.

The girl on the left waved him off. "Shove off, Peter. We didn't want a drink from you last night, did we? That hasn't changed."

Peter grumbled, neck as red as a tomato, and wandered off.

When the girl turned back to Loke she was smiling warmly. "It's been a long time, Loke."

Loke paused, whisky halfway to his mouth.

"You don't remember me?" she teased.

No. Loke laughed to cover up his floundering.

She saw through him and pouted, sultry-like. "I thought I made a bigger impression then that last time. For me at least, the Cyprinid's boiler room will never look the same."

"This is the guy?" the girl on the left asked.

"That's him. Told you I wasn't dreaming." She stuck out her tongue. Her sister snickered.

_Boiler room_? Loke scoured his mind. And then he placed her. He'd been with her the last time he was in Hargeon. The Cyprinid was the ship her father owned. "How could I forget you? Just playing hard to get." _What the fuck is her name_? He had no idea.

"Liar." She didn't look like she was mad. "This is my sister, Harley."

Loke smiled. "You didn't tell me you had a twin."

"To be fair, we didn't talk too much last time, did we?" Her grin widened. "Our friend Robin's in the washroom."

Loke's day got a little brighter. If only he could remember her name…

A girl with strawberry blonde hair caught his eye. Dressed in a tight pink dress and strappy heels, she made her way for their table.

"There she is," Harley said.

"Hey." Robin wasn't shy. She threw herself clumsily into the seat beside Loke and leaned into him. "And who's this, 'Nessie?"

A light went on in Loke's mind. "Vanessa."

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't just remember my name."

"And I'm going to pretend that you don't like fuck boys."

Vanessa's grin got toothy. "Robin, this is Loke. And he said he was buying us a few rounds."

_Not exactly what I said_ , Loke thought, but what was one round verses five? If it got him back into the Cyprinid's boiler room with an additional two girls… who gave a shit?

Robin leaned in closer. "Sounds like a good time."

* * *

Loke stretched out and spread his legs wider to let Harley's nimble fingers closer to his groin. She moved teasingly, skating up a few inches so she was close to where his erection pressed hard against his pants, then moving off again to skim the inside of his thigh. It was frustrating and it was amazing and he just wanted her to grab him but teasing was better.

A dark haired man sat on the bench across from Loke. "That seat's—" Loke trailed off, recognizing Gray. His frown turned into a lopsided grin. "Hey, man."

"Hi, Gray," Vanessa said from her sister's side. "It's been awhile."

"Hey, Vanessa," Gray said with a tight smile. Loke kind of hated him for remembering all of their names all of the time. How did he do it?

Gray turned his gaze back to Loke, a suspicious look in his eye. "You ditched Lucy and me in the hotel earlier. We were going to head out for dinner but you were gone."

This time Harley did actually find Loke's softening cock and squeeze it. "That's mean, Loke. Why would you do that?"

_Because Gray looks at me like that_. Like he was gearing up the courage to give him another lecture. Like he knew Loke was trying to find a more permanent solution to Karen's haunting and he was trying to determine if he should be an inhibitor or an enabler. Loke knew which version of his friend he liked best. "Guess I forgot. Have some drinks with us, Gray."

"Oooh! Yesss. Come sit with us! Loke's buying everyone drinks!" Robin chirped.

Loke laughed. "Not quite."

"Sure. Lucy's at the bar. I'll go get her," Gray said.

Lucy. "You brought her here?" Of course. When he focused through all of the drunken haze and loud voices, he could feel Lucy's magic like pulsing like a heartbeat. Like his heartbeat. It was the celestial realm and it was calling to him.

"I wasn't going to leave her at that shitty motel by herself," Gray said, slandering Blue Boots despite his earlier praise.

On a whim, Loke said, "I'll go get her."

Gray raised a brow. "Thought you didn't like Lucy much?"

They both knew it was just the opposite; Gray was just being a cock.

Loke held his response. He untangled from Harley and patted Robin on her pink-clad ass to get her out of the booth. Robin giggled drunkenly and almost toppled over as soon as she stood. Gray caught her by the wrist to stabilize her and Robin decided that his lap was a good place to end up.

Lucy wasn't at the bar like Loke thought she would be. He looked around the full dancefloor and found her in the middle with that guy. Paul… or Patrick, or Philip or something and he was looking at her the way Loke wanted to look at her and she was smiling back, like maybe she'd consider an offer he'd put forward.

Loke slid sideways through the crowd, jostling people and getting grumbled at and grabbed by a girl that wanted to dance, and then a boy. He slid away from both of them and got more aggressive, getting through the crowd with his elbows.

Finally, he broke through into the clearing. Lucy hadn't noticed him yet, her eyes were closed and her head was tipped way back, like she was loose and careless. Loke took her wrist to get her attention and she leaned back into him and started to dance. She didn't care who the partner was, as long as she was moving. He felt a thrill bolt through him, magic and want, head to toe. She moved up against him more firmly and the thrill focused itself. He took her hips without ever meaning to and held her.

They danced too slowly for the music, but that didn't seem to matter, she felt good, languid, distant and loose. Loke thought, _you're too drunk for this_ , and, _maybe you should stop._ He didn't do anything to change his situation, though.

The beat around them was throbbing, the music vibrating up through the floor and into Loke's feet, so loud he almost missed a man's voice saying, "What do you think you're doing?"

Loke cracked open an eye. They were still in the bar. There were still people around them. Lucy still had a partner that Loke had totally stolen her from. He didn't have it in him to apologize, not when he was as close to the celestial realm as he'd been in years.

"Dancing."

Lucy stiffened under Loke's hand. She stopped moving and glanced back at him through her hair. They were so close to each other, Loke could see the flecks is gold in her eyes and her spattering of freckles. She pinched her lip between her teeth and closed her open palms into loose fists on his neck. Soon, she'd try to slide away. He thought he'd do almost anything to keep her right there.

Her partner had similar ideas. "Back off, buddy. We're having a good time here" He took Lucy's arm and pulled it away from Loke as if to stake his claim. He hadn't started tugging her yet, but Loke felt like it was coming.

"Do you want to keep dancing with this guy or did you want to change it up for a bit?" Loke asked.

Lucy dragged her arm out of Peter's grasp. "Maybe… we could switch, Peter. We've been dancing for a while."

The man scowled at Loke. "First Vanessa, now this? Are you fucking with me or something?"

It was kind of fun, and he wasn't good at hiding his triumphant grin. "You think?"

Loke watched Peter's knuckles go white on Lucy's arm as he started pulling her away. "Forget about this douche. Come on, Lucy."

Lucy planted her feet. "I'm just going to have a couple of dances with Loke and then—"

Peter's glower turned legendary. "You were dancing with me."

Loke's adrenaline spiked with the tension running between them.

"And now I'm not," Lucy said carefully and pulled her wrist out of his grasp.

"Don't be a bitch."

Lucy gave him a dumbfounded look. "Excuse me?"

"Just come on." Peter tried to grab her again.

Loke shoved his hand away. "She said fuck off, so get out of here."

"She only said that because you showed up," Peter said vehemently.

"You know what? Just no." Lucy ducked out from between the two of them and put the bar in her sights.

"Now look at what you did," Peter grumbled. "I don't know what your problem is, but that's twice you've totally fucked up my night."

Loke barred his teeth in something like a smile. "I think you handled that all on your own." Just because he was feeling like a dick, he clapped Peter on the shoulder before he walked away. Though he half expected to get punched in the back of the head, Peter managed to withhold.

Loke's eyes slid over Gray in the back. He was buried beneath a mound of bodies, all three girls piling into the booth beside him. Though that was supposed to be Loke, he didn't feel much in the way of jealousy just then.

This time, Lucy was at the bar, both of her arms propped up on the knotty wood and her chin resting on her fists. The bartender brought back a beer for her. She saw Loke coming through the throng and started to get him a glass of whisky, too. Loke took it between his hands and mimicked Lucy's stance.

"Sorry."

Her eyes flitted left. "It's not your fault."

He shrugged and lifted his drink to his mouth. "I cut in without asking."

She signed dramatically. "I was having fun."

"It doesn't have to stop. Did you want to keep dancing?"

Lucy looked back to the full dance floor; Loke followed her gaze. Peter was still out there, glaring at them. "Um…"

"I won't let him bother you again. Or, you know, if you want to go hang out with him, I'll leave you alone. Have fun and all, be safe." From his pocket he produced a condom and waved it mockingly. "Just in case?"

Lucy flushed. "No, thanks, I don't think I'll be hanging around him again."

"Then I have to assume you'd prefer my company," he said smoothly and replaced the condom. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Are you just hanging around here because you're trying to fuck around with me?" Lucy's eyes opened wide after she finished speaking, like she hadn't quite planned for those words to come out.

Loke felt his grin turn toothy. "That hurts, Lucy."

Lucy's cheeks got red. "And yet, you're not denying it."

He shrugged. "If you know, and I know and we're both consenting…"

She faced him squarely. "I told you before, I'm not going to be one of your trophy girls."

No. Not Lucy Heartfilia. She was for better things. Better spirits. Loke swallowed, his throat feeling like a pinhole. _What the hell are you doing_? "Sorry, Lucy. I shouldn't have…" He trailed off and turned away.

Lucy caught his wrist before he could get too far. Her magic jolted through him. It was one of the most painful and pleasurable feelings he'd ever experienced. It stopped him dead in his tracks and made him shiver. He could feel Lucy on the other end of that, a shiver rolling through her, too. Her fingers got tighter. She pulled him back and Loke came, a puppet on a string.

"Just… Forget that. Have a few drinks with me, alright? We can wait for Gray to ah…" They both found Gray at the same time, using his mouth to take a lime from Vanessa's. "Well… finish whatever the hell he's doing."

"Yeah," he said finally and hated himself for wanting Lucy to be in the same position. And acting on it. "Let's do some shots." That way he'd be too fucking drunk to think about his mistakes.

"Shots?"

"Tequila!" he called to the bartender.

"Hang on, Loke—" Lucy started.

Two glasses landed in front of them, golden liquid sloshing over the brim. Without waiting for her, Loke grabbed his glass and clacked it against hers. "Cheers." He tossed it back, barely flinching, and tapped the bar for another.

Lucy raised her brows. "This is a bad idea."

"Life's full of them," he told her.

"I'm going to regret this tomorrow."

"Story of my life," he muttered under his breath. This time when he got his drink and tapped hers, she was holding it. They tossed them back together.

"I'm blaming tomorrow on you."

"Deal." He smiled wanly and ordered two more.

* * *

He was too drunk, which meant Lucy was totally wasted. She leaned off her chair and pressed into him so much so that he had to either wrap his arms around her middle to keep her vertical or let her fall into his lap. Her breasts practically spilled out of her tank top. He wasn't going to do a damn thing about it until he noticed the old guy behind him shuffling around to get a better look. He supposed he could have just told her to fix her shirt, but it was more fun to sneak his fingers into the material and pull it up himself. Lucy looked startled, then kind of mad, like maybe she was going to yell at him, then she laughed hysterically.

"Thanks," she said when she'd recovered.

"Mm…" It was still riding too low; he didn't bother adjusting for her this time and Lucy didn't try to do it on her own. "Come on." He grabbed her hand and tugged it.

Lucy squished her face against his chest. "Where are we going?"

"Back to the motel, I think."

Lucy smiled brightly. "Back to my room?"

"…Yeah." That was the safe bet. Just drop her off inside her room. And go in with her. And fuck her until she couldn't breathe. Then leave.

Easy.

Irresponsible.

Assholish.

But easy.

Right.

"Come on." He threw some money down on the counter. Though it was late, the bar was still loud, the band going strong, people still drinking heavily. Gray had passed by some time ago, nodding his head to Loke as he went, two girls on one side, one on the other. Loke had hated him in that moment, back and forth about Lucy as he was. One minute he wanted to get with her, the next he decided that he was a better person than to sleep with her while she was blasted. Gray was supposed to be his voice of reason, Loke's good conscience when his failed. Because it would. It always did.

He was gone now, though.

Oh well.

Loke grabbed Lucy around the waist before he could waffle any more and practically lifted her out of her seat. She laughed and drooped into him.

"Where's Gray? Gray!" Her voice was loud, but not louder than the music.

"I think he's back at Blue Boots," Loke said in her ear.

"Blue…?"

"Boots."

"What's that?"

Yeah. Really drunk. "Our motel, Lucy."

"Right. The dump."

"That's the one." He put the door in his sights. Lucy's steps were mismatched; he wasn't sober enough for this walk either. Lucy pulled him up when he slouched too far to the right and he did the same when she leaned to the left. Together they were like a teeter totter, back and forth, back and forth. Some people gave them weird looks but most minded their own business.

Loke pushed the palm-greased door aside and lugged Lucy out into the cool night. Spring peepers chirruped loudly, their song chorusing from swamps and ponds by Hargeon's docks. A few people stood outside the bar smoking, a couple even managed to smuggle their beer out. There was some broken glass on the ground; Loke's palms ached sweetly just looking at it. He squeezed Lucy's hip tighter, making the pain radiate that much more. She didn't know what he was doing, but, arm wrapped around his waist, she squeezed back and looked up at him. _You could kiss her right now_. He refrained. When he kissed her, he wanted the opportunity to bask in her glow, like he was a tree and she was the sun, and to do that, he needed to be somewhere quiet and private. Hargeon's street corner just wouldn't do.

Going left would bring them to Blue Boots in the most direct way. It also meant walking by all of the hookers that patrolled the docks, women in small clothes that shivered in the still cold air, men in open shirts and tight pants, some that were in between.

"Hey, you two, you want some company?" asked a woman with long, dark hair.

"Yessss!" Lucy chirped. "Loke and I are going back to Boots Blue and drink."

Loke opened his mouth to correct her, but there was just so much wrong with that sentence he could only laugh.

"What?" Lucy demanded.

"Just be quiet and come on." Turning to the hooker he said, "I don't pay."

"For what?" Lucy asked when she saw the girl turn away.

Loke reached down and squeezed her behind. Lucy yipped and batted him away, though she didn't scold him like he thought she would. Which was just terrible. _Where the hell are you, Gray?_

Not saving Loke from himself, that was for sure.

A tall figure stepped out from behind the bar and blocked their way. "Hey, Lucy."

Lucy looked up into his face and scrunched up her nose. "Paul."

"Peter," he corrected.

"You again?" Loke asked.

"Shut up. I was talking to Lucy." Peter never stopped looking at Lucy. "I found this on the floor. I thought I saw you wearing it." He held out his open hand and revealed a necklace, heart-shaped and gold with an encrusted ruby.

Lucy grabbed at her throat. "Oh. It must have fallen off. Thank you."

Peter stepped up like he was going to put it on for her. Lucy took it and did it herself with two practiced movements, opening the latch and closing it.

"So…" Peter stuck his hands in his pocket. "Did you want to grab another drink?"

"It's late," Lucy replied. "Thanks, though. For the necklace and the invite."

"It's not that late," Peter responded.

It was pushing two.

"We have a job to do in the morning," Loke informed him.

"I thought I told you earlier to shut up?" Peter stepped close enough that he was in Loke's face.

Loke's adrenaline cranked up again. "And I thought I told you to fuck off?"

"I'm sick of your shit." Peter pushed him hard, sending him into Lucy and thusly, sending them both wobbling back.

"Hey!" Lucy protested.

Loke's free hand tightened into a fist. And then he really thought about what he was doing. Lucy would interfere. Or get hurt. or something. Sucking up his pride, he sidestepped Peter. "Come on, Lucy, let's get out of here."

She matched his steps, looking over her shoulder occasionally, though Peter didn't pursue.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Are you?"

"I should have kicked his ass," Loke muttered.

"It's not worth it," Lucy said and tightened her hold on his waist.

"He pushed you."

"He pushed _you_."

"Into you."

"I'm okay."

He sighed and looked down at her. She was still heinously drunk, that hadn't changed, but now she was worried, like she expected him to go pick a fight. _'Cause that's what Natsu or Gray would do_. He didn't want to be like either of them and started moving again.

It wasn't a particularly long walk back to Blue Boots, but Loke got lost twice and let Lucy direct them both times. The first time, they took the wrong turn then wandered around until they stumbled upon one of the streets that intersected their motel's. The second was when they got to talking and just kept on walking past their turn. On the way was an empty ice cream parlor. Seeing it, Lucy's eyes lit up.

"You want ice cream?"

"Hell yeah, but it's closed," he told her.

"We'll just knock until they open." She bullied him over, stronger than she looked, and hammered on the door. Her knocks were loud in the silent street.

"You're waking everyone up," Loke warned her, though he wasn't particularly concerned.

"Uh. Yeah. For ice cream." She pointed to the shop as if that were so obvious.

"Lucy," Loke snorted, for a moment forgetting Karen and his creeping fate and just let himself have fun. "It's closed. Blue Boots has a vending machine, though."

She scrunched up her nose. "Full of ice cream?"

"No. Full of stale candy. Come on, I'll buy you some sour berries."

She let him pull her away. "It's stale?"

"Harder than a rock. If you're good, I'll feed them to you." The image in his head would have been perfect if he didn't know that the candy sat there for most of the winter. Still, he could imagine her plump lips opening for him to drop the candy on her tongue. Maybe he'd kiss her afterwards and taste the sugar on her lips.

Lucy didn't reply, only flushed and looked at him through a fringe of honey coloured bangs, a complicated expression on her face. It was then Loke knew he wouldn't have to push all that hard to get what he wanted: Lucy on top of him, naked and sweaty and moaning.

"Come on." His voice was huskier than he'd intended. Goodbye, morals. "Let's get back."

* * *

The vending machine was empty of everything but a single package of sugared berries. Loke dropped money into it and the machine hummed. The berries fell to the bottom and he took out the package. Lucy was already against the wall with her hands pressed against the bricks, her head resting back and her eyes following him like he was words on a page.

He ripped the corner of the package and put himself against her. Magic. Thick, thick magic thrummed out of her skin and into his. Her eyes closed and her lips parted and he knew what she'd look like in ecstasy when he finally got her inside and put his fingers inside of her or kissed her the way she should be kissed in all the places she probably didn't pay enough attention to.

Her eyes cracked open and she laughed. "Are you going to give me one or what?"

Loke got himself together and took out a berry. Her mouth opened wider and her tongue, warm and soft, wrapped unnecessarily around his finger. His cock got hard and he pushed into her without thinking much about it. She laughed again and tipped her head back, chewing.

Loke reversed their positions so his back was against the wall and Lucy was leaning against him. Even if there was no magic, she'd feel nice. Full and soft and warm, her breath sliding down his neck, her lips lingering against his skin in almost a kiss but not quite.

"Where's your key?"

"Mm…" She patted her pockets. Loke was afraid to see the celestial ones but Lucy came up with the right piece of metal. "Here!"

Loke took it from her and slid it into the lock, fingers lingering on hers for just a beat too long. Under his hand he could feel she quivered just slightly.

Nervous.

Excited.

Two of his favorite things.

Her room was identical to his. Her door even stuck. Loke closed it. Lucy locked it. When she turned back around to look at him, it was through eyes that were both glassy and black, shadowed in the dark room.

_Maybe turn on a light_ , Loke thought. It would be nice to see her clearly, but on the other hand… he'd have to see her clearly. It might really make him think about what he was about to do.

Lucy leaned against the door then threaded her fingers through his and pulled him in so he stood toe-to-toe with her.

_Maybe this is a bad idea._

Then again, all good and bad ideas began the same way. Who was he to say? He grabbed her waist, thumbs sneaking up under her shirt. Her skin was warm and smooth, static electricity against his.

"Loke?" Lucy asked suddenly.

"…Yeah?"

He thought she'd ask about the magic but instead hit him with, "Are you sad?"

He stopped inching up her shirt. "Why would you say that?"

She withheld her words and touched his arm where he'd sliced into himself. It was a sweet pain that made Loke want to close his eyes.

"Everyone's sad for one reason or another. Even you." Sunny, exuberant Lucy.

"Sometimes."

Loke kissed her so she'd stop asking questions.


	5. Chapter 5

If touching Lucy was like getting electrocuted, kissing her was like burning alive. Her mouth tasted like alcohol and the cheap candy he'd popped inside, like lip gloss. And the _magic_ he was able to take away from her. It was sliding out in droves, like he was oxygen gathering hydrogen, pulling everything in at an unstoppable speed. His _heart._ It was going to explode but like an addict, he couldn't push away from her and not just because Lucy pulled his hair to keep right there. Not just because she was asking him to pick up one of her legs to wrap around his middle. Not just because she was wearing small panties beneath her skirt and he could _feel_ how warm she was down there.

Karen whispered in his ear, "You're a leech."

Loke tried to ignore her. Her and her cold hands moving through his hair after Lucy's.

"You should tell her that she's feeding your sickness. See what she says."

He pinched his eyes closed and thrust his hips against Lucy's. She moaned and grabbed at him through his pants. Loke got harder and Karen got a bit more distant. He was able to undo Lucy's shirt. It buttoned at the front and beneath, she wore a lacy green push-up bra, though her breasts were large enough without it.

She pulled his head down toward her breasts. Loke had a _no marks_ rule that he disobeyed, sucking a quarter-sized bruise into the skin just around her nipple. She arched and grabbed the bra, pulling it down further, pushing her breasts up higher. She shuddered when he flicked his tongue over the large and hardened tip and sobbed when he took it into his mouth completely.

Karen's voice slithered into his ear. "How does the celestial realm taste, cocksucker?" Loke diligently ignored her but Karen never needed _anyone's_ permission to speak. "I thought you were sorry for what you did. I thought you were getting penance. I thought you weren't going to leave me here all by myself anymore. I thought we'd be together."

"Ow."

Loke realized he was squeezing Lucy's middle too hard. He loosened. "Sorry."

"That's okay." She reached up into her skirt and took her panties off. They matched her bra and suddenly looked criminal on the floor. She took Loke's hand when he didn't make another move and put it up under her skirt for him. She was smooth and soft and wet. So very wet.

"Touch me," she commanded. Loke rubbed over her swollen clit and moved his fingers back to find her opening. She leaned back against the door more and lifted her leg so high, he could almost rest it on his shoulder. He pushed against her and used his body weight to keep her vertical and got to work.

Lucy's breaths were humid on his neck. He kissed her jaw and her chin and then her mouth and tasted every one of her moans. Her fingernails left scratches on his shoulders that he wished would never heal for selfish reasons. Like it was a pass to show to Karen. So he could say _see? I wasn't there fucking her just because I wanted to fuck her. I_ was _punishing myself. I_ do _want to keep you company. I_ am _going to._

"You're a _liar._ " Karen could sing sweetly when she wanted to, but she always sang ugly words. "You're just a slut, using her to run away from your problems. Ignoring me. Ignoring what you did." She grabbed his dick in her phantom hands. "This isn't a magic fucking wand. You don't point it at things and your problems go away. I'm going to be here, Loke. Through everything. Until you pay for what you did to me. Until we're together again. You won't know peace."

Lucy got tense beneath him; her breath arrested and her nails dug in the hardest yet. Loke tried to enjoy the feeling of her tightening around his fingers but he couldn't. Karen's hand was still on his dick and he couldn't focus on what was _real_. Lucy felt fainter beneath him and Karen more solid. It was all wrong.

When he stepped away from her, Lucy tried to grab his pants to take his cock out. Loke shoved her hands aside and sidestepped her. He grabbed the door she was no longer against.

"Loke?" Lucy's voice chased him into the hallway. "Loke? Where are you going? Loke!"

She didn't have any hope of catching up to him, she had a bra to fix and a skirt to pull back down. Almost blindly, he teetered to the stairs. Taking them two at a time was risky, he almost fell twice, but it was worth it to get outside faster, there was a sickness building in his chest he hadn't felt before. Too long out of the celestial realm and too many nights drinking, he supposed. Whatever the case, it made him sweat and his stomach roil and his chest tight.

_Is this it? Am I going to die here?_ He had no idea _what_ to expect when the time finally came. Shivers or sweats? Pain or numbness? Fear or calmness?

The lobby was empty, though the lamp was on. He kept moving, thankful that he wasn't going to have to think of some watery, civil thing to say while he tried not to puke on the floor.

Loke body-checked the door to get it open and nearly spilled onto the cracked cobblestones. Pulling on a reserve of balance, he came upright. The world spun harder. He angled himself towards the alley behind Blue Boots and made for the rusting dumpster that leaned against the brick wall. The smell drifting out of it did nothing to ease his stomach, though he thought maybe that ship left port long ago. He clutched its rusted edge like it was a lifeline. The cloying smell of garbage worked its way inside of his mouth. There was no escape.

Bending at the waist and gasping weakly, Loke vomited everything he could. The sickness racked through his body and just kept coming. It became too much to stand, so he sank to his knees and curled over so he had at least some hope of not throwing up on himself.

In his periphery, he saw Karen. She stared at him, a mean expression on her face as she watched him fall apart. Loke looked away from her. The ground wavered before his eyes. _Is this how I die?_ In the alley behind some forgettable motel, after walking out on a girl he'd gotten so fucking wasted she thought sleeping with him was a good idea? He would have laughed if he could have.

"You sure he came this way?"

"Yeah."

_The universe really fucking hates me,_ Loke thought depreciatively when he recognized that voice.

"Look—there's someone out there."

A light flicked on and flashed into Loke's eyes, totally blinding him.

"I told you. That's him."

"Shit, man, I think he's sick or something."

"I don't care."

Men like Peter never did.

Loke wiped his arm across his mouth and, though it was painful, forced himself to stand.

"Look at this fucking pussy."

Against the wan light from the streetlamp, Loke made out the vague silhouettes of two people, Peter and whatever gutter trash he'd managed to scoop out of the Pour House.

"What's the matter, asshole, can't handle your liquor?"

Loke spat; his mouth tasted sour. "Do we have to do this right now?"

Peter dropped the flashlight to the ground. "Hold him, Mike."

Loke, still light-blind, blinked furiously to clear his vision. It worked well enough that he saw Mike circling wide to come up behind his back. He blinked again; his eyes stayed closed for too long, though it seemed like only a second had passed. Hands wrapping around his biceps and holding him firmly in place brought him back to himself. Peter shot some derogatory words his way. Loke's face exploded in pain.

Again.

And again.

Peter punched hard. On the third hit, Loke's cheek cracked. Faintly, he wondered what kind of wounds Karen had sustained before she died. He hadn't been brave enough to go to her funeral, but he'd heard rumors that it was closed casket.

Mike loosened his hold. Loke dropped like a sack of grain. On level with Peter's boots, he was able to watch right up until the moment Peter kicked him hard in the face.

Then he saw black.

* * *

From his place trapped beneath a slew of arms and legs—where did one girl end and the other begin? He had no fucking idea—Gray listened to the door slam next door, then the rough pounding of feet in the hallway outside. The first thing that went through his mind was, _'shit_ ,' because he was sure that it was either Loke or Lucy stumbling about, and if they were tearing through the halls like that, it likely wasn't for any good reason. Then tiredly, he thought, _it's probably fine_. It wasn't like Loke was going to stand in front of another train or try to take a dive in the canal with Lucy at his elbow. He was more discrete than that.

He immediately felt guilty. Lucy's voice lifting in the hall didn't help with that.

"Loke! Loke! Don't—" There was a shuffle, a bang, then a fluid line of curses he so very rarely heard come from Lucy's mouth.

Gray swore and started the arduous task of disentangling himself from the women. They muttered and grasped at him sleepily, someone tightening their hold around his chest while someone else found his dick and squeezed. He almost stopped there and said, fuck it—this was a pretty damn good place to be—but then he heard Lucy lurch back to her feet and start calling Loke again.

Once more, Gray worked to get free and didn't stop until he was standing. Hopping into a pair of jeans and sliding his feet into his boots barefoot, he tore open the door and saw a frazzled, dishevelled, and mostly naked Lucy leaning against the wall before the stairwell. Her shirt was all the way undone and her breasts were hardly in her bra. Her skirt was up too high, obviously previously pawed at. And then there were her leather boots. She looked hot, in a I'm-way-too-fucking-drunk-for-this-shit kind of way.

"What are you doing, Lucy?"

She turned wide, dark eyes on him. "Gray! Have you seen Loke?"

"I left him with you at the Pour House."

Lucy sighed exasperatedly. "He ran out on me." She lumbered towards the stairs, pushing herself off the wall as she went.

"Hang on," Gray called her back.

Lucy didn't pause.

"Lucy, you're not dressed."

That stopped her short. She looked down at her attire and he thought she was going to see sense, then she said, "Oh well," and started off again.

"Not oh well." Gray grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. "I'll look for him. Go back to your room and wait."

"No, Gray. I want to find him." She twisted her wrist in his grasp; Gray didn't release her. "He was freaking out."

Gray pulled her back from the stairs and pointed her in the direction of her room. "I'll tell you what, you go get some clothes on, I'll wait here, and we'll go together. Four eyes are better than two, right?"

Lucy nibbled on her lip, uncertain. "You'll wait?"

"Yeah. Go on, before some perve sees you and you become spank material."

"What?"

"Never mind." He pushed her away.

Lucy tripped back into her room. She left the door open, but Gray didn't think she was sober enough to know he was ditching her. As soon as her blonde head of hair disappeared into the darkness, he took to the stairs, moving carefully because he wasn't much soberer.

It didn't take him long to find Loke. All he had to do was follow the sounds of yells. In the alley behind Blue Boots, two men became visible, both kicking something on the ground.

_That's a person they're laying into_. He could see it in the way the figure curled in on itself.

He was suddenly positive that was Loke. His guts twisted. "Hey!"

The men kept kicking.

"Hey!" Gray called again.

They stopped. "Someone's here."

The thing they'd been kicking groaned in Loke's voice, confirming Gray's fears. "For fuck sakes. What the hell are you doing?"

"Teaching this asshole a lesson," said the taller of the two. "Fuck off and you won't be next."

A fight hadn't really been on his 'to do' list tonight but Gray squared his shoulders. "I'll give you a chance to get out of here."

Stepping closer, the tall one sneered and made a tight fist. "I don't think you heard me."

"I don't think you heard _me."_ Gray called his magic to his hand, icy crystals forming on the tips of his fingers.

The shorter man hung back. "You didn't say nothing about mages, Peter."

"What the hell does that matter? Look, he's wasted and he's by himself. If he wants to fight for this loser, who the hell am I to say no?"

"You should listen to your friend," Gray said. "Get lost."

Peter snorted and kicked Loke hard once more. Other than his body recoiling with the force of the blow, he was totally limp.

"Fuck it. You had your chance." Making a fist of his own, Gray came at Peter. His friend bailed. Peter wavered like he wanted to join him but he was proud and let that rule the next few minutes of his life.

Gray was able to hit him first, faking him out with a shot to the face and then getting him in the guts. Peter bowed over his ribs. Gray tried to lift his leg to hit him in the face with his knee and found himself shoved back. He tripped over Loke and almost went down. He caught his balance last-minute with the help of the wall and sprung back.

Peter could take a hit and he could give one. Gray punched him in the cheek at the cost of getting hit in the jaw. He used his magic and Peter went down on the suddenly icy ground. Gray had no interest in playing fair and dropped down on top of him, pinning him to the ground with his body weight. He shut off his mind and started hitting.

Peter fended him off at first, lifting his hands to block his face, but eventually, he stopped thrashing and Gray was able to do all the damage he liked.

Someone pushed his shoulder hard and Gray lost his balance, falling forward. He scrambled upright and whirled, ready to continue the fight, but stopped when he recognized the blonde of Lucy's hair. Her chest rose and fell in huge movements like she'd run for a long way or like she was scared.

"Stop. Stop it. He's unconscious." Scared, Gray decided. Her voice wavered.

The adrenaline fell away. Breathing deeply of the blood-soaked air, Gray dared to look at the man beneath him. He was bloody and bruised, barely recognizable. Gray gathered up the blood on his tongue and spat a cherry-dark glob beside his slack face. It gleamed by the glow of the street lamp and leached into the pavement.

Lucy squinted. "Is that… is that Peter?"

"You know this guy?" Gray demanded.

"He was at the bar. He was mad at Loke."

It all made a little more sense now. "Loke pisses off a lot of people."

_Loke._

Gray turned back towards Loke's limp figure. Lucy noticed him, too, and scrabbled across the broken pavement in seconds and falling to his side. There was a pile of vomit on the ground that she just barely avoided.

"Loke?" Her voice shook even more than before.

Gray hardly felt braced enough to follow her over there. They'd been kicking him for awhile. "Is he—"

Lucy sniffed. "I don't think he's breathing. Loke?" She grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"Move." Gray pushed her back and knelt, putting his ear close to Loke's mouth. Long seconds passed with no movement of his chest. "Come on." He waited another drawn-out moment for any movement at all before he started doing the CPR he didn't know if he remembered.

Lucy touched Loke's forehead and gripped his hand. "Loke, please…" Celestial magic spilled from her skin in soft, shimmering waves; Gray wasn't sure she was even aware of it, she looked so distraught. He was about to push her clear when Loke's chest fluttered.

"He's coming back."

Loke took in a gasping breath, like he'd been holding it for too long and coughed roughly.

He was alive.

Gray sat back on his heels, a nervous laugh exploding out of his chest. It earned him a filthy look from Lucy.

"You think that's funny?"

Funny? No. Terrifying? Absolutely. He didn't reply. "Come on, Loke."

But aside from that round of chest rattling coughs that had brought up several droplets of bright, bright blood, Loke made no indication that he was in any condition to move.

"He can't walk," Lucy said in a fear-wrung voice. Adjusting, she tried to pick Loke up on her own.

Gray pushed her back. "I have him."

He lifted Loke under his armpits and threw him sloppily over his back. Leaving Peter exactly where he was against the wall, Gray started staggering back to Blue Boots. With every footfall, he wondered how many times he'd have to carry Loke like this. Maybe the next time, he'd really be dead?

* * *

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The crinkle of paper.

The sound of a squealing tap.

The smell of alcohol. The kind that you could drink, but not the kind that was any good for it.

Drip.

Burning on his face made him wince. The smell of alcohol got stronger.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?"

"I don't know. Probably." A hesitant pause. "I don't know."

"Gray, you shouldn't drink that; you're going to make yourself sick."

"Like tomorrow is going to get any worse? I'm freaking out. He didn't look so shitty out there when it was dark."

"You're supposed to be keeping your shit together so I can keep _my_ shit together."

He didn't seem to hear her. "Maybe we should call someone. A doctor or something. Or take him to the hospital."

Lucy's voice turned high and thready. "The hospital?"

_Why?_

_Because you're hurt._ In Loke's memory, Peter's boot smashed against his cheek. His face ached.

Not as much as it should.

But it ached.

"He looks really pale, doesn't he? Fuck."

"Maybe. Yeah. Yeah, he does."

Gray said, "We should take him. Get on his feet and lift him out."

"Seriously?"

"Come on, Lucy."

"Okay."

Small hands closed on Loke's ankles. He twitched from her grasp. "Don't."

There was a beat of silence. "Hey, man, you awake?" Gray's voice was uneven.

Loke's eyes felt like they were glued together. He could only peer out from between his lashes. "Hm. No hospital."

There was some shuffling, then a halo of gold came into his line of sight and cool hands touched his forehead. "Loke… you're hurt. You need to go."

"No." Under his hands was smooth metal. _Metal_? It squeaked against his bare skin; his back stuck to it. And it was cold.

Bathtub again. It seemed like he was fated to always wake up in that fucking bathtub. _That bathtub_? No, this one wasn't familiar. They weren't at Gray's. This tub was shorter, both in height and in length. And the tap drip, drip, dripped annoyingly. Pressing his palms against the tub, he pushed himself up higher. Everything was sore, though it felt dull.

Lucy made a soft, shrilling noise. "Don't move, gods... Loke, please. We need to go." Gray showed he was worried and Lucy started to fall apart.

"I'm fine." He reached blindly and pushed Lucy's shoulder. She stumbled back, still heinously drunk, and fell on her rump. Her skirt came up unflatteringly, showing everyone her underwear, though no one was paying much attention: Loke was busy looking at the backs of his eyelids, Gray was busy trying to discern if Loke was actually okay.

"You don't look fine," Gray started.

Loke made his eyes come fully open. There was blood smeared on his cheek, he could see it when he looked through his lashes. He had to breathe through his mouth, too, because his nose was stuffed. "I'm good. Just leave me for a bit."

Lucy got back onto her knees and touched his cheek with gentle fingers. Magic jumped between them, sweet and intoxicating. Loke's body sung, trying to respond because that's what it was meant to do. He could feel his wounds stitching with just a little bit of unwitting help from her. "Don't touch me."

"Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not. I think your cheek is broken, and your hands are bleeding again, and your eye is swollen, and those are just the parts of you I can see. There's too much blood everywhere else."

Huh. "Just give me a few minutes."

"This isn't something that's gonna get fixed in a few minutes," Lucy said. "You need a hospital."

Loke shoved her hand away. More magic jumped between them, setting his skin ablaze. Lucy startled. Loke tried to play it cool and unaffected like he didn't know how amazing that felt. "I said I was fine."

"And I say you're _not."_

Gray came to the rescue. "If he wants to hang out there for a bit, just let him. He's doing well enough to tell us to fuck off."

"You were _just_ saying that we should take him to the hospital." Lucy sounded _furious_.

"He's getting some colour back. Obviously, he wasn't as bad as I thought." Gray's words were heavily slurred. Loke was grateful; if he was soberer, their conversation might be going a little differently. "Come on, I'm fucking exhausted. I want to go to bed, and I suggest you do the same."

"I can't leave him here."

Gray sighed. "Whatever. I'm crashing. If he starts getting weird again, get me."

Steps retreated. The bed out in the other room squealed.

A damp cloth touched his face. Lucy's movements were hesitant and uncertain, her hands wobbling because she was so drunk or maybe she was remembering that earlier transfer of magic. Either way, she kept mopping up the blood.

In seconds, unconsciousness pulled Loke under again, into a lucid dream.

Sitting on a moss-covered gravestone was Karen Lillica. Her hair was mussed and dirt ridden, her eyes glazed and mostly white. Dead eyes. There was dirt caked under her nails like she'd actually climbed right up out of her grave, just for him.

"You were close, Loke."

"Close?" His mouth felt like cotton.

"You stopped breathing."

He touched his chest with a still-bleeding palm.

"You ran away again, though. Are you scared? Of dying? Is that why you didn't just let it happen?"

"I'm not scared," he lied. "I want to, Karen, just like I said. I don't want you to be alone."

She saw through him. "If you weren't scared, you would have just let go. Instead, you tried to play with another celestial mage, hanging on by the scraps of her magic. Suffering. Pretending. But you and I both know you can't be her spirit."

"I'm not trying to be."

"Don't lie. I know you. Coward. I also know if you keep going like this, you're going to kill her too. She'll end up just like me."

He couldn't breathe. "Lucy? No. I—left her."

"Bullshit. If you hadn't been such a goddamn loser, you would have fucked her. And then what? You were going to treat her like your other girls, Loke? Were you going to use her to bury your uselessness? You couldn't just hit and quit. Not her. She'd never let you go. And you… you're so pathetic, you'd never walk away, either. Not until you absolutely had to, when this world took every drop of life from your veins."

"It's not true. I was going to leave her alone."

"Were you? Or did you just want to see if you'd end up killing her, too? Do you _like_ the feeling of guilt? Is that it? Does it give you a chance to be your worst self without remorse? Gods. That's it, isn't it?" She laughed. "Fuck. You are _path-etic."_

"Shut up."

" You _like_ it, Loke," she sing-songed. "You _like_ it."

"Shut up."

She stood and came to him; her legs barely supported her, they were so torn. She was bleeding, but not like the living did—her blood was thick and black and congealed. "If I'm wrong, come with me now. You won't have to suffer anymore."

Loke's heart throbbed. His stomach clenched.

_Die._

_Gods._

_You could die._

_Right now_. What would a life without immortality be like?

"Were you scared?"

"When I died?" Karen asked. "No, Loke, because I knew one day you'd be here with me." She held out her hand, not looking mean any longer, but incredibly sad. "Keep me company?"

With shaking fingers, Loke reached for her.


	6. Chapter 6

_Loke_

_Loke_

_Loke_

Someone was calling his name. Someone with a voice as sweet as cane sugar. Sweeter than Karen's.

Loke paused in reaching for Karen's hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you hear that?"

"No," she denied. "Touch me." She held out her graveyard dirt hands, both of them forward, grasping for him. They scared him more now than they had moments ago.

Warmth brushed over his shoulders and a sharp shock of power travelled through Loke's body. It was like getting hit by lightning when his heart was fibrillating wildly. _That's Lucy._ He'd recognize her magic anywhere. He couldn't _see_ her, though, he was still alone with Karen in that mossy graveyard.

Karen's dark mouth flattened. "Ignore her, Loke."

It wasn't so easy. It was like someone was breathing cool, fresh air into his lungs. "I don't think I can stay."

"You promised me."

"I'm sorry."

"No. You're _my_ spirit. _Mine._ You can't _be_ hers. You can't run from me."

_Loke_

_Loke come back._

"I'm going."

_Loke._

"Don't you dare."

"I have to." He did. Lucy was telling him to and he could not deny her call. "I don't have a choice."

"You're a horrible spirit. _Repent_ , Loke. _Repent."_

_Repent._

"Loke!"

_Repent!_

"Loke, can you hear me?"

_Loke, don't leave me_. _Repent._

The graveyard was getting hazy. "Karen!" He reached for her. She was well out of his grasp and disappearing like a ghost in the fog. "Karen!"

"Shh. Shh. You're okay." Warm hands pressed into his forehead and his cheeks. "Shh. You're alright. You're with me now. Shh. You're not alone."

"Karen," Loke called, though the graveyard was gone, replaced by a tin ceiling stenciled with crowns.

"Shh. It's Lucy. Remember?"

_Lucy._ Lucy had pulled him back. She'd stopped him from repenting. He tried to pull away from her, from temptation. She wouldn't let him get far, touching the cheek that wasn't broken. "It's okay. Calm down. You're safe. You're alright."

He was actually too tired to fight. Soon, all he could do was lean his head back and breathe. He shivered, cold. "You can't be here."

"I can. I'm staying and taking care of you."

"No—"

"Yes." She left very little room for argument. "What do you need?"

Finally, Loke said, "It's cold."

Lucy stood, clumsy still, and staggered into the main room. She returned a moment later with a blanket. Instead of draping it overtop of him, she got right down into the tub with him and draped it over them both.

Loke was aware of the blood and worse things on him. "You're wrecking your clothes."

"I can buy new ones. I'd rather you be warm." She pillowed her head on his chest. Her magic thrummed through her skin and into his and she must have felt it. How could she _not_? She let him lay in peace, though. Loke closed his eyes and sucked it up like a sponge.

* * *

Loke was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been. Everything was cramped, his back felt bent like an old man's, his neck was stiff. Hair that wasn't his own tickled his lip and his nose. His head was pillowed against someone else's. Someone that smelled like Lily-of-the-Valley and celestial magic.

_Karen._

Not Karen. Because she was dead. A stone dropped in his stomach.

_Lucy._

Slowly, last night's events came back to him bit by bit. Frantically kissing Lucy, touching her, making her come, racing out of the room on her, running into Peter.

And then….?

A fight, if you could call it that. The most vivid thing he recalled was the look of the cracked and raised pavement while his cheek was pressed against it.

Then nothing.

Loke licked his lips, trying to work some moisture into his dry mouth, and felt his lip was split open. It hurt like hell. When he winced, the motion pulling his face taut. His skin felt hot and crusty.

Slowly, he extracted his arm from a threadbare and stained blanket and touched his cheek. It was sore.

_'I think your cheek is broken._ ' Lucy's words crashed into him. Maybe it had been. It didn't feel like it was anymore, though it was bruised for sure.

Lucy shifted and he realized that she was awake. His heart beat hard while a segment of his dream came rushing back. ' _You're my spirit._ Mine. _You can't be hers.'_ Like Karen could see through right into his deepest, darkest, most private thoughts. _She's right. You have to get up. You have to get away from Lucy._ How they even came to be like this…

Lucy lifted her cheek from his chest and looked into his eyes. "You're awake."

"I gotta get out of here." His voice cracked.

"You shouldn't try to move too much—you're hurt pretty bad…" though she trailed off examining his face. He knew what she saw, last night's bruises weren't quite so bad, his cuts had sewn themselves back together. He looked like days had passed, not hours.

"I'm fine." Sort of. He felt fucking gross, for sure. Like he'd drank too much. Fuzzy, like he hadn't drunk _enough._ Water, that was. Loke struggled to disentangle himself from her. Lucy didn't do much to help.

A figure filled the doorway. "There is no way you're fine."

Loke stopped struggling and looked into Gray's waxen face. He looked like he wanted to claw his guts out, and then his eyes to get them to stop burning. "You look like shit."

"Yeah. And after last night, there is no fucking way you feel better than I do. You know we almost took you to the hospital?"

"Yeah," _kind_ of? "And I told you I didn't need to go." At least, that sounded like something he'd say.

Lucy shared a look with Gray that Loke very much didn't appreciate. They were remembering how bad he was and wondering how he could possibly be so much better.

Gray sidetracked any questions Lucy may have asked, saying, "I'm going back to my room to shower and get changed. Then I'm going to check if that dickhead is still in the alley. If he is, we'll take him to the police or something."

Loke looked down at Gray's knuckles. They were broken and crusty with blood. He looked away, disgusted with himself. "I should have been able to—"

"It wasn't a fair fight," Gray cut in, obviously uncomfortable in hearing _why_ Loke didn't fight back. He'd already drawn his own conclusions, that this was another self-destructive ploy. "Get up. If you're good, we still have a job to do."

"I think I'm going back to Magnolia," Loke said after a pause.

Gray's face fell into a scowl. "This was your job."

"Yeah, and I'm done with it." Loke's neck heated with shame even as he spoke. He hadn't ever taken a job he hadn't completed before. _It doesn't matter. Just walk away._ End this charade.

Gray shook his head and turned away, leaving Loke and Lucy alone in the bathroom again. Loke winced when the outside door slammed. Gray was usually pretty level-headed, but when he was mad, he had a tendency to destroy things.

Lucy said quietly, "Don't leave, Loke."

He glanced at her briefly. Her hair was matted and messy and her skin was as waxen as Gray's. Everyone felt rough. "Get out, Lucy."

She looked like he'd slapped her. _Good._

"No," she said stubbornly. "Last night—"

"We were both drunk last night." Drunker than they needed to be. In fact, he felt drunk still.

"Yeah," Lucy agreed. Her cheeks were bright pink. "But I knew what I was doing—what I wanted. Being drunk doesn't change anything."

He laughed meanly. "You're right, it'd have to mean something for it to change anything. So get up, grab your underwear off the floor and get out."

"Why are you being like this?"

"You don't have very many one-night stands, do you?" he asked suddenly. "Afterwards, we're supposed to go our separate ways."

She didn't snap at him. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She stood calmly—though she _did_ totter—and stepped out of the bathtub. Loke watched her leave, feeling relieved and terrible all at once.

_It's better like this._

Again, the outside door shut, though it was quieter this time.

Loke leaned his head back against the bathtub and sighed. _What a fucking mess._

* * *

Eventually, he convinced his body that it was a good idea to stand. He didn't bother looking into the mirror, that could wait until after he was clean. He tugged off his shorts and threw those along with the blanket on the bathroom floor. They could both be thrown out, spotted with blood as they were.

A glance down his body told him that he was covered in deep bruises. They hurt when he touched them, though the very edges were yellowed. _Apparently, I'm not quite ready to die yet._ He remembered Karen from his dream, the dead girl with the filmy eyes and dirty nails reaching for his hand, ready to pull him under and he thought, _Maybe that's not entirely true._ He felt like he _could_ have died last night if Lucy had just _let_ him.

He was disgusted with himself when he realized how relieved he was. Karen was right, he was a coward.

Loke turned the tap on as hot as it would go and stepped beneath the spray. It burned his skin and melted the blood away. The bottom of the tub turned pink, then the water ran clear. Carefully, he washed his face, then his hair. Lastly, he brushed his teeth, thoroughly scrubbing his tongue until his mouth tasted like toothpaste and not sour like vomit.

When he felt more like a man again and less like a punching bag, he turned off the taps and dried himself, then wrapped the towel around his waist. He caught a glimpse of himself in the foggy bathroom mirror. His face was a cacophony of blues and purples and yellows along the left side. Colourful as it was, it was no longer quite so sensitive. It was healing. He tried to feel disappointed. Karen would like it that way.

There was a towel on a rack beside the sink that he used to dry his hair. When it stuck up at odd angles and was mostly dry, he threw the towel into the sink and came into the main room.

He wasn't alone.

Lucy perched on the corner of his bed. She'd showered, her hair damp and loose around her shoulders. Now her skin looked healthy and pink, not off-green as it was before. She wore a sundress, a light blue polka dotted thing with a rushed waist and a haltered neckline. It was short enough that he had a hard time looking away from her legs. And it was low cut enough that he had a hard time looking away from her breasts. Finding her face was no better. She'd found some lip gloss that made her mouth shiny and bright.

Loke tried to find something safer to look at. The filthy bedsheet. "What are you doing here?"

Lucy stood and approached him. "I don't believe last night was as meaningless as you said it was."

Loke almost groaned. "Listen, I was like, ten drinks deep into a bad decision."

Lucy chewed her lip, looking uncertain but determined. "You're not now."

Her voice tried to seep into his bones and make him think stupid things. He endeavoured to put an end to this. "You're sweet, Lucy, but like you said, you're not my usual type. Last night was a mistake."

She looked hurt, but she didn't run off damp-eyed like he hoped she would. No, she kept on coming, fixated on him like a hunter on prey. It wasn't a dynamic that he was used to. His skin prickled hotly.

"You don't mean that."

"Yeah, I do."

To keep some distance between them, Loke had to take a step back. There was a wall at his back. Where had that come from?

Lucy looked him over, taking note of every injury. He clutched his towel around his waist with one hand, feeling too exposed but doing nothing when she reached out and touched the bruises on his ribs. He flinched, partially because her hands were cold, partially because magic jumped between them. And Lucy noticed. Her face pinched, her mouth parted, both in a kind of pain and a kind of pleasure.

"Do you feel that?"

Loke's lungs felt like they'd been hit with birdshot—holey and insufficient for breathing. "Yes." The word was strangled. He hadn't meant to be truthful—he wanted to lie and send her off, but Lucy... She made him want to do all kinds of strange things. Like tug at the bow around her neck and pull her dress down around her breasts. Like hike the skirt of her dress up and see what she was wearing beneath. Like kiss her until she was all he could taste. Like touch her until she was all he could feel. He wanted to breathe her down until it was excruciating. He'd welcome it. It hurt to be around her, and it seemed like he was always looking for pain.

"Loke?" Her hands were on his cheeks somehow.

Loke looked into her gold shot eyes and thought he could drown. "Yeah?"

Lucy didn't smile. She looked at him intently. "Why is my magic attracted to you?"

Loke's hands tingled and he realized it was because he'd grabbed her by the hips. He squeezed her too hard. Though he knew it must have hurt on some level, he couldn't imagine letting her go. "I don't know." He felt like such a pretender, the lie watery and see through.

Lucy seemed caught in her own world, though, not really paying attention to what he was saying as she brushed his cheek with the tips of her fingers. "And this—it was broken last night."

Loke started to sweat under her interrogation. "If it was, it'd still be broken now, wouldn't it? Guess you were wrong."

Lucy frowned and shook her head. "I'm not wrong, Loke, and you know it. You can trust me."

_She knows. She knows_. But she couldn't. "I don't know what you want from me."

"The truth," she said simply, as if it was easy to spit that out.

"You shouldn't be here."

She stepped closer. "You don't want me here?"

Loke wanted to release her hips and grab her by the shoulders so he could turn her right around and send her on her way. She made him weak; he couldn't do it. His inaction gave her the opportunity to move in again so she was a hairsbreadth from his lips. There she hesitated, giving him ample time to wriggle away. He was utterly immobile like he was paralyzed, her magic was hitting him again and all he could do was let it.

Lucy stood on tiptoe in her black wedges and kissed him.

Kissing her last night had been something else, but now he realized that the alcohol dried everything up. This was like getting struck by lightning then burning alive. Savage agony.

Purification. Perfection. Abolition.

Lucy tried to pull back; he held her firmly, preventing her from going anywhere even as he told himself to stop.

No. No one could make him feel like Lucy did. She was salvation and damnation. She was the fuel and the ignition. And Loke wanted to burn. Loke dug his hands into her skin even harder than before. Magic danced between them. It was like breathing. He just kept taking from her and taking _._

"Gods." Lucy broke the kiss and pressed her mouth against his stubbly jaw. "Why does it feel like this?"

Loke couldn't find the breath to answer.

"I love it." Exalted. She sounded absolutely exalted. "Don't stop. Don't."

He wasn't even doing anything. She was the one. He just took.

She kissed his neck and Loke looked up at the grimy ceiling overhead, trying to decide if it was crueler to let himself continue like this or to push her away?

"Loke, touch me."

"Go ahead, touch her, Loke." Karen's voice was there but she was not. "Go ahead. We both know you weren't able to walk away from this life anyway, so stop pretending. Just tell her the truth. Tell her what you are so she can save your pathetic little soul."

She was wrong. He could walk away from Lucy. He didn't want to be her spirit. He didn't want saving from her. He wanted to use her as a means to punish himself. She'd be good for it—she wouldn't even know.

Lucy had made her way back to his mouth again and kissed him torturously slow. He watched her from between his lashes. Her cheeks were bright pink and her heavy-lidded eyes as dark as rum, easy to get lost in. _You can take this and it doesn't mean that you don't want to be with Karen._ He could want both.

He _could._

He could do this and walk away and that would hold him over until the day came when this world rejected him and he finally joined Karen.

He deepened the kiss, finding her tongue with his and massaging it slowly. When a chill rolled through Lucy, it rolled through him too. They weren't spirit and celestial mage, but the connection between them felt diamond-strong.

Lucy's touch left a trail of prickling magic that Loke's body responded to. He was closer than ever to the heavens. The light up so high was so brilliant, it was blinding. He crushed her tighter to his chest, a pained grunt sneaking from between their pressed lips when the motion made his bruised body ache.

This was what he needed. This pain.

Like he needed a hole in his heart.

"Do your ribs hurt?" Her words were muffled against his mouth.

"No," Loke lied.

Lucy saw through him. "Come here." She found his hand and pulled him towards the tiny bed.

Lucy was a bright spot in the dingy room, a golden toffee and alabaster girl. He loved the juxtaposition. It fit perfectly with the one in his head.

His bare feet picked up bits of grit and grime from the scuffed and scratched motel floor. That was secondary to his aching, fast-beating heart, to his too hot skin, to his too short breath.

They reached the bed too soon, yet not soon enough. Lucy turned and caught his eye. She definitely looked confident. More confident than he was, that was for sure.

She touched his face and more magic strung between them. Loke shook; he couldn't help it, spurring Lucy's question of, "Are you okay?"

Loke looked away from her concerned gaze, he didn't want anything to do with sweetness. "I'm fine."

Lucy didn't look sold but she took him by the shoulders and pushed him down so he sat on the edge of the bed. Then she leaned in and found his mouth again, the kiss softer and slower and better than any he'd ever had before, and he'd kissed a lot of women. His head began to spin. His lungs hurt. Especially when he breathed her exhale in deep. His skin lit in goosebumps. It was too much sensation. He had to take his mouth from hers and breathe in the stale motel air.

Lucy only let him away for a second, then she grabbed his hair and pulled him right back. "Kiss me."

It was the same as last night, she was demanding. _I can do this._ He met her lips to prove it to himself. It still felt too intimate, way, way too raw. He needn't worry. She kissed his mouth for another two heartbeats then broke away so she could clamber onto the bed, straddling his lap. Then she wriggled her hips so she grinded off his hardness and Loke was lost to another sensation. The towel was sliding away and Lucy's panties were soaked through. Unable to touch her without fear of the whole world sliding away, he gripped the threadbare blanket while she went back to clutching his hair and kissing his neck. The more into it she became, the more her magic sloughed off her in waves. Greedily, Loke absorbed it.

It hurt. So much that he was gasping for breath.

"You're okay?" Lucy asked again against his neck.

Loke grunted noncommittally and Lucy tried to pull away. Having her near was torture, but far away was even worse.

"Don't." He grabbed her around the ribs and pulled her in. Her skin was hot, hot, hot on his. His fingers burned as he worked up her spine and found the bow holding her dress around her neck. He pulled it apart. The material fell around her neck, bluer than the sky. It got snagged on the tips of her breasts. Eagerly, Loke pulled it down.

Looking at her with sober eyes was totally different. Better. Absolutely better.

Absolutely worse.

Lucy grabbed his hands and made him cup her when he remained immobile. There was a moan on her lips. Loke remembered what he was supposed to do.

Capped in light pink, her breasts were full and soft, the peaks already raised. Feeling like he was stealing it, he leaned into her and lapped gently. The contact made, Lucy shivered and pulled his hair harder. Thrills laced with magic rolled through Loke. His blood felt like poison. His head spun, though not in the way it did last night. Like he was separate from his body. Like he was free-falling. Like he was suffocating.

In pain once more, Loke whimpered, but Lucy only heard the pleasure in his muffled protest.

She wriggled her hips again and went searching for the towel that still partially covered him. It got caught under her thighs and she had to pull away so she could stand and push it aside. He was bruised beneath, though she didn't pay much attention to that, she was more focused on his rigid erection.

She pushed him back on the bed and worked on getting her dress around her hips. Suddenly, she was only in a light green thong. And when that was gone, she was entirely naked. She stepped out of the discarded clothing, looking like some kind of nymph rising out of water.

"You're beautiful."

She smiled and used the tips of her fingers to slide up the side of his shaft. He pulsed eagerly and got even harder when she leaned over and kissed the very tip of his hardness. He pushed his hips up and she took him into her mouth.

Nothing, not cutting himself, not burning himself, not drinking himself into oblivion, made him hurt so badly or made him feel so good. Though he itched to grab Lucy's hair, he refrained, afraid that any other contact would be just that bit too much. Already he felt like he was burning alive.

_Fuck._

"Fuck."

_Fuck._

Lucy sucked harder, moved a little faster. Dark spots danced in front of Loke's eyes. Lucy grabbed his legs and grounded him.

"Fuck."

She took her mouth away. Her lips were red and swollen. "Is it—" okay?

"Get up." There were condoms in the nightstand that he'd left there before leaving yesterday. He took one out and put it on. Lucy started to obey when he'd finished but she was too slow. He took her by the arms and pulled her up. She kissed him, sultry.

_Fuck._

Loke felt like he was disintegrating.

"Get on top of me." He pulled her roughly. Lucy straddled him and, wriggling, positioned him at her opening. She was softer than silk. Warm. Wet.

Loke didn't give her a chance to breathe before he thrust his hips up and entered her. She gasped and bit her lip until it turned white, closing her eyes and simpering. When she was used to his thickness, she opened her eyes again. Her lashes looked darker than night framing her warm brown eyes. Over her shoulder, her blonde locks kissed the tops of her breasts, curling now as they dried, gleaming in the overhead light while she leaned back, planted her hands on his thighs and started to rock.

Unable to look away, Loke watched her. Every time she brought herself up, she'd take a breath in and squeeze his thighs, and when she'd come down, she'd breathe out with the kind of moan that clung to his skin. Her breasts swayed with every movement.

The room filled with the sounds of her laboured breaths, the sound of her skin hitting his. Before long, there was a sheen of sweat on her brow. Watching her, he got so much harder and longed to grab her. He didn't. It was important to keep some distance; this couldn't mean more than it was supposed to.

If Lucy noticed his reluctance, she didn't let it dampen her zeal. When he didn't respond by pawing at her, she leaned over his body and caught his mouth up in a sloppy kiss that was all tongue and hot breath as she struggled to maintain the same pace. Loke helped, thrusting up to meet her. She pulsed wildly around him.

The more excited she became, the more her magic fell away until Loke was surrounded by it. It stuck to his skin like honey on paper, it invaded his nose like pollen in the air, it snuck down his throat like hot, hot wax, until it was all he could see, all he could taste and feel and

_Breathe._

The world warbled. Lucy's mouth felt too warm. Loke turned his face away and sucked in air like a dying man.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked again. Her words came out in a gush of air. She didn't stop moving her hips.

Loke swallowed tightly. "Turn around." That way he wouldn't have to look at her or kiss her. From behind, she could just be another girl.

_You don't believe that._

No, but he didn't want to stop, yet he didn't want to continue quite like this. _This is what you wanted_. The pain. Yes. He didn't expect it to be so…

_Intense_

though.

"What?"

"Turn around, Lucy." He made himself grab her hips and push her off.

Lucy obeyed, getting to her knees and turning around so she could meet his eyes uncertainly over her shoulder. "Like this?"

"Here." He took her by the wrist, fingers burning, burning, burning. His throat got as narrow as a reed. _Fuck_. Guiding her, he led her on top of him again but made it so he was looking at the smooth expanse of her back. The relief was instantaneous. He still _knew_ it was Lucy—nothing would ever hide her from him—but when the agony got too much, it helped not to look at her face.

He took his cock and guided it into her. Lucy's palms found his thighs again and she started to bounce once more. He looked at her ass slapping against his hips, listened to her moan. _This_ was better. He could even bring himself to wind his fingers through her hair and pull her head back so she was a little more vertical.

He hit her G spot. She cried out loudly, a sobbing moan that made him harder again. Unable to help himself, Loke grabbed her hip in his free hand and held her aloft so he could slam into her at a speed he wanted. Too fast. Too fast for either of them to breathe. Too fast for either of them to think.

The first time she came, she was a hot mess, shaking and swearing and digging her nails into him hard enough that she broke the skin. Blood and magic welled up to the surface sluggishly. It was the best.

Loke adjusted so he was hitting her in just the right spot once more and she was hit with another powerful orgasm. She cried out loud enough that anyone in the hall would hear. It was hard to care.

She was close again and Loke was, too. He sped up and felt her cinch around his cock. He came and when he came, she came with him, and the most violent transfer of magic to date passed between them. All he could do was close his eyes and let it happen.

They sat still for a long time, shivering and not speaking. Eventually, though, Lucy clambered from his lap. She said nothing as she gathered up her dress and her underwear and left for the washroom.

Loke was just doing up the top button of his pants when she came back. She'd managed to get her dress back into a state where she looked presentable. Her hair was picked up off the back of her neck now, lifted into a high ponytail that slumped because her hair was so thick. She took him in, eyes lingering over his exposed chest, on the bruises that were still healing at a rapid pace.

"Loke, can I ask you something?"

He followed her gaze. "No." He got his bag and tugged out a button down short sleeved shirt and a long sleeved band T-shirt to go under it.

"But—"

He didn't know what she was going to ask, but he knew he didn't want to hear it. The T-shirt mussed up his hair when he pulled it over his head. "I'm checking out. You got all of your shit?"

Lucy wrapped her arms around her middle. "Yeah. I told Gray we'd meet him at the Roadhouse." She named a restaurant on the outskirts of town.

"I told you guys that I was heading back to Magnolia." Loke had a hard time meeting her eye. Suddenly, their little rendezvous didn't seem like such a great idea. _What were you thinking_? But this was _exactly_ what he wanted: the torture, the sick feeling in his guts. The need to be around her and then the pain he felt when he denied himself.

Beautiful.

"I know. I also know that you didn't really mean it."

"I don't ever say things that I don't mean, Lucy," Loke told her while he adjusted his collared shirt over the other one.

Lucy looked away. "I just thought—"

"That we'd have sex, then hold hands and kiss, go on jobs and stare into each other's eyes for a disgusting amount of time, not talking for so long that we lose our voices and our eyes go dry, just like regular couples do?" he asked meanly. "I told you—"

"I don't need a 'thanks for your patronage now get out' speech, Loke," Lucy interrupted. "I knew what kind of person you were before, and I knew what I was doing. I didn't come in here looking for a boyfriend, I came in here looking for the real Loke and I found him. I don't need you to hold my hand or simper over me." Her cheeks were bright red. Hot. "Just come with us, please."

What was there to say? _You're going to go with them_. He knew it. It was like he couldn't help it. _Because it hurts to see her hurt._ And how could he see that if he wasn't with her?

He told himself that it was for that reason only.

_How many lies can you tell yourself?_

Enough. He was an adept liar.

Lucy started buttoning his shirt for him. "Just come."

Loke brushed her hands away and made for the washroom. "Give me a minute." His knife was heavy in his pocket and his skin was feeling entirely too intact.


	7. Chapter 7

The blood burbled up out of his arm like a slow river bouncing over rocks and spattered into the sink, heavy and thick. It made the porcelain, which had looked dingy at first, turn almost crystalline.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

This cut was deeper than the others; it also hurt the most. Loke tipped his head back and closed his eyes, savouring the sensation. Copper was in the air.

"Loke?" Lucy called from the other side of the door.

Loke left his eyes closed, for a moment reliving her grinding on top of him. The memory was tangled with desire and pain. _When will you stop torturing yourself?_

Never.

Not ever.

Lucy called him again. He ignored her.

Then the doorknob jiggled and his heart leapt into his throat, and the suffocating memory of Lucy's body dissipated.

"Loke?" The doorknob turned and the door started to open. Startled, Loke yanked down his sleeve but too late, Lucy had poked her head in and spotted the blood. "What happened?"

"Get out."

She didn't move. "You're hurt."

"Get out, Lucy."

She tried to come in further.

He wanted to scream, his chest felt tight with it. Instead, he said as calmly as he could manage, "Just caught myself on the towel rack." Believable, there was a jagged piece of metal splintering out; he'd noticed when they first arrived. Her eyes flicked to that, and, inevitably, the knife on the corner of the sink. He moved so he was thoroughly blocking her view. "I'll just be a second."

"Loke…"

"Get the fuck out, give me some privacy."

Lucy backed out and carefully closed the door behind her. Loke breathed a rattling sigh and almost laughed. Nearly. If he didn't feel guilty for snapping at her or too dizzy from blood loss.

He took his time cleaning up, wrapping his arm in gauze, cleaning the sink, hoping that when he opened the door again, he'd be alone.

No such luck.

Lucy remained on his bed, back too straight, fingers too stiff latticed on her lap. She'd gone and gotten her bags at some point, now they sat at her feet, over-full for a job like this. "I shouldn't have barged in."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"And you shouldn't have yelled at me."

Sharp words barbed in his throat and would not come out. He started to gather his things. There wasn't much unpacked, a stray sock beneath the bed, deodorant on the floor beside the vanity.

Lucy was a silent sentinel, watching him fumble through the crash after euphoria.

_Tell her you're going home. Do it. Do it. Do it._ He opened his mouth. Lucy regarded him evenly, that connection between them singing.

He clamped his lips together.

Frustrated and feeling weak, he threw his bag over his shoulder and made for the door. Wordlessly, Lucy rose and came after him.

* * *

Though the sky was blue, rain-laden clouds gathered on the horizon, directly over their destination. Loke moved sluggishly toward the inevitable storm, half-praying that they'd get drenched so Lucy would want to stop somewhere and he could just keep going on without her, and half-praying that it would blow over so that he didn't have to leave her side.

"You know," Lucy said suddenly, breaking what had turned into almost an hour-long silence. "I used to hate myself."

Every few seconds, the sun would slide behind a pregnant cloud, giving the ground a dappled look. Loke squinted into the momentarily too-bright sunlight, a headache coming to him. "What?" Though there had been nothing wrong with his hearing.

"I hated myself," she repeated. "When I was at home. After my mom died, it was just me and my dad. He never had time for me because..." She got quiet before continuing again. "Sometimes he'd look at me and he'd see her. Me and my mom… we looked a lot alike. I knew it hurt him, and it hurt me too."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Lucy shrugged. "I'm trying to say that everyone deals with their shit differently, I guess. I ran away, and you..."

"I what?" Loke challenged.

"Fuck a ton of girls," Lucy threw out instead of, _'cut yourself_ ,' though they both knew she was thinking it.

Loke put his hands in his pockets and felt his knife. _What have you done_? Signed himself up for some lectures and sad sighs from Miss I-can-fix-anything-just-let-me-help-you-you-poor-tortured-soul.

"I won't tell anyone," Lucy said quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He walked faster.

Lucy caught up. "And, if you want, you can always talk to me. You don't have to… do that."

Did the pain and pleasure outweigh the embarrassment? That was a kind of punishment too, though, wasn't it?

* * *

The Roadhouse was a long, rough-hewn log building with a giant wrap-around porch and a patio. On the outskirts of town, it attracted travelers going to and from Port Gale. It was busy today; busy enough that some patrons were out on the porch despite the threatening weather.

Loke didn't have to try very hard to find Gray. He was sitting at one of the patio tables with a wrap stuffed half-way into his mouth. The expression on his face was sort of pained like he didn't particularly want to be eating but he thought that he should.

"Hey," Gray greeted when they were within earshot. His voice was strained with disgust. "You want this?" He held up the wrap to Lucy first.

Lucy's skin adopted that green hue again. "No, thanks."

Gray held it up to Loke next and Loke said, "If I eat that it's going to be back in your lap."

"Yeah." Gray dropped it back onto his plate and threw some cash onto the table. "Thought you were taking off? Magnolia's the other way."

Loke scrubbed a hand through his hair and struggled to think of an explanation for his contrary actions. None came. At least, not easily. It wasn't like he could say, _'Hey, I fucked Lucy and now being around her makes me want to tear my skin off and I like the way it hurts_.' 'Cause that sounded crazy as shit and would earn him some funny looks and enough anti-psychotics from Porlyusica that he'd be thrown into a stupor.

"I asked him to stay," Lucy spoke up when Loke was quiet.

Gray didn't press the matter, though there was an expression on his face that told Loke he was going to be peppered with questions as soon as Lucy wasn't in hearing range. "Let's go, then. I told Mrs. Agnatic that we'd be checking into our hotel by two." He got slowly to his feet.

"You look rough," Loke said unhelpfully.

"Yeah, thanks, dickhole. We're not all like you." It was a jabbing, purposeful remark followed by a curious scowl at Loke's once swollen but now barely bruised cheek.

Lucy saved the day by asking, "Did you find Peter, Gray?" She started walking and they fell into step beside her.

Gray grumbled, "Nope. He was gone. Maybe his asshole friend picked him up or something?"

Lucy harrumphed. "I wish I'd got down there sooner, I would have called Aquarius and kicked his ass. He needed a bath anyway—one that wasn't in cologne."

Loke's itching skin only got worse. Aquarius. It had been a long time. He studied the keys wrapped around Lucy's wrist, held in place by a leather tether. Part of him longed to touch them. Touch her, Lucy. Again and again and again. Purposefully, he brushed her arm with his. Just like he hoped, threads of her magic leapt between them. She didn't seem to notice, but his new cut burned like never before. _It's because you're getting closer to death_. His body was starving. Absolutely ravenous. His head swam.

"Loke?" Lucy asked gently.

Loke blinked his eyes clear and realized he'd trailed behind. His arm hurt so damn much because he had a death grip on it. It was bleeding again, right through his poor excuse for a bandage. To hide the sparse blood spots, he turned his forearm so it was against his side. Good thing the clothes he'd chosen today were dark.

"Yeah." He made an effort to act naturally and took the lead. It was his job, after all.

* * *

Port Gale couldn't be seen on the horizon until five that evening. It would have been sooner but Gray dragged his feet worse than Loke did and had to stop twice, once to bring up the quarter of the wrap he'd actually managed to eat, once to dry heave noisily while a cart full of school children and their nannies drove by. There were lots of ' _What's wrong with him, Nanny?_ ' And, ' _Look away, child_.'

If Loke had the energy, he would have laughed.

"I told you not to drink that alcohol," Lucy said unhelpfully. Gray could only grunt. She continued. "It's pure ethanol, Gray. You're lucky it wasn't denatured—"

Gray took in a breath and skewered Loke with his eyes as if it were somehow his fault. Loke weathered the scowl and the silence that came afterwards, choosing instead to examine their destination.

Port Gale was a wide, sprawling metropolis that made most of its revenue in the summer months, supported as it was by tourism. The Marduk, the hotel Missus Agnatic procured for them, stood above the rest, tall and narrow. It wasn't the most expensive in the city, not by a long shot, but it was nice. Upper-middle class. Four stars, with clean, bright halls, shiny wooden floors, and crisp, white furniture, according to the pictures. Something tourists would hole up in. They needed to play the part.

Lucy practically flounced to it. There was no line up in front of the _Reception_ desk where a man with a bad comb-over waited, barely tall enough to see over the edge of the desk.

Lucy spoke to him quickly, handling everything while Loke stared at an ugly painting of a man with his face drooping toward the frame and Gray leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes like he was sleeping.

She returned and handed them all keys. They took the stairs up and on the third floor. Lucy led them left.

"We're all in a row. You're at the end, Gray. Loke's in the middle and I'm down here."

"Thanks."

"Get some rest," Lucy advised them. "We'll need to leave soon enough." She trailed her fingers over the inside of Loke's arm as she walked by and Loke's skin pricked with the influx of celestial magic.

He stared after her as she disappeared into her room, thinking of her words. ' _I won't say anything,'_ and, ' _You can trust me.'_ There was a moment in which he let himself imagine telling her about what he was and what he did. About Karen. It passed with near-lunatic anxiety.

He moved to get away from such thoughts, unlocking his door and pushing it wide.

The interior looked like it had in the pictures, clean and tidy. The bed was a double, made with burgundy and gold sheets; the drapes were translucent, lacy and whiter than snow, the dressers were walnut, stained dark.

He swung the door closed. It didn't slam the way he expected but closed quietly.

First, he threw his stuff on the bed, then turned to face Gray. He looked like he was fighting the worlds biggest migraine. "Got any painkillers?"

Loke sighed and went through his bag for a giant container of aspirin. Gray caught it and shook out four into his bruised knuckles, chewing them up right then and there and swallowing.

Figuring he couldn't ignore it anymore, he nodded to Gray's hands and said, "Thanks again. For last night."

Gray waved him off, uncomfortable, and changed the subject. "How are we going to do this tonight? Agnatic said there were two places that were hardest hit—Green Phoenix and the Mansion."

A strip club and a bar. "People are more likely to go to the bar, so I think that's where we should be." His stomach pitched when he imagined drinking more, though he knew he would anyway.

Gray looked downright ill. "Yeah. Thought you were going to say that."

"You don't have to drink," Loke said.

"You are?"

"Gotta fit in, right?"

"Does nothing fucking faze you? I could puke my guts up again, like right now, and keep going until I'm dead but you're here talking about doing it all over again."

Loke shrugged. "Gotta do what you gotta do." He started going through his clothes, looking for something to wear that night. Something casual, but not grubby. Everything he had was wrinkled.

"Is that what you were thinking when you did Lucy?"

"Who said I did?"

"Why else would she be coming out of your room last night without underwear on?"

Loke screwed up his face. "That was..."

"Not what it looked like?"

Loke said, "Obviously you've already drawn your own conclusions."

"Am I wrong?"

Sometimes, the safest thing to say was nothing at all.

Gray asked, "You serious about her?"

Loke gave him a bland, ' _what do you think'_ kind of look.

Gray exhaled loudly from his nose. "Does she know that?"

"Yeah. We talked."

"Because we have to work together."

"Yeah."

"And she's alright—you know? Sweet."

' _She deserves better than you_ ,' is what he was trying to say. _Don't I know it?_

"Maybe you should try not to fuck it up."

Loke bit his cheek hard. "It's not happening again."

"Sure."

"It's not," Loke insisted.

Gray said, "I'll meet you guys in the lobby at nine, alright? I'm going to go crash while I can; see if I can sleep this off."

Loke sympathized; maybe a few hours of sleep would be good.

"And…" Gray's gaze dropped to Loke's hand. He looked like whatever he was about to say he didn't really want to.

"What?"

Gray tipped his chin. "You're bleeding."

Loke slid his thumb and forefinger together and realized that he was right, the long gouge on his arm torn open again.

He didn't offer an explanation, and Gray didn't ask.

* * *

They were in his apartment; Karen leaned back on his bed, long legs crossed, hands planted behind her hips, head tilted so far back so she could look at him from upside-down with dead, moonstone eyes. Her hair trailed the mattress, limp as seaweed out of the water.

"Come."

He didn't want to.

She smiled. "Do I scare you?"

"I just..."

She slowly laid back so she was at a more natural, less dead angle, and reached for him. "You're still my spirit. Obey me. Come."

Loke breathed out and went to her. She grabbed his wrist and traced the most recent addition to his cuts.

"That was a bad one."

"I guess."

She dropped her voice to just barely a whisper. "Did it make you feel any better afterwards?"

"It always makes me feel good." Bad. "For awhile." Hours. Minutes.

Karen smiled with no warmth. "What are you going to do now your little celestial mage knows?"

"She doesn't know what she thinks she knows," Loke said.

"Just that you cut yourself."

"So what? Lots of people do."

"You're right. It's not a big deal. Most people don't mean it."

"I mean it," he said defensively, though why he felt it was necessary to defend his position, he didn't know.

"Alright."

"It's true."

"Maybe you can prove it to me tonight. Maybe you won't be scared to die."

"I'm not scared," Loke said.

She spread her hands out over her head like a model stretching for a camera. "Do it now then, Loke. Keep me company."

"Now?"

Her back bowed and she clenched her ribs, in exultation and disgust. "Right now. Do it now. I need you. Here. Repent."

_Repent_.

She held out her hand. Her nails were black, her fingers prune-y and cut up from scrabbling across the ground when she fought for her life three years before.

Loke looked at that hand, his heart frantic with fear. _Just do it, then you can stop wondering if you can. Do it. Do it. Do it._

He stretched; his fingers closing around hers. Karen's hands were cold and moist, like fall morning mist, covered in graveyard dirt and soaked through with chemicals and blood.

"Now you'll know what I do." Her voice was whisper-quiet.

"What's that?"

She smiled, thin lips peeling back depreciatively. "It's easy to die." Cold bloomed in the centre of his chest, frigid enough that when he exhaled, he couldn't draw breath again. Karen stood and pulled him into her body, wrapping her free arm around his throat. "I want you to look at me when it happens."

Of course she did, Karen was mean. He met her filmy eyes and realized she was right. _I'm scared._

An insistent knock shook through the cavernous room and startled him away from her gaping gaze.

"Loke!" Karen hissed. "Loke, look at me."

_Knock, knock, knock._

"There's someone here."

"Forget about that and look at me."

_Knock, knock._

"I have to get it." He felt a surge of adrenaline and couldn't think beyond that one thing _. I have to answer that door._ He couldn't see it immediately and began to panic, but then he blinked and his dream started merging with reality, his bedroom and his hotel room slapping themselves together. For an instant, Karen filled the spot at his side, so real, he could smell her decay, sweet, cloying, sticky in his throat, meat left too long in the sun.

"Don't, Loke. Don't go to her. Stay with me. Repent. You promised. Remember your promise?"

_Knock, knock, knock._

"I'll come back," he said, though he had no idea if it was true or not.

Her expression turned mean and she rushed him. He didn't think she could do anything but then she walked straight through his chest and cold fingers gripped his heart. All he could do was gasp for breath and clutch his chest, wondering if that's what it felt like to die.

_Knock, knock, knock._ "Loke?" It was Lucy, calling him back. He gurgled. "Loke?" She sounded more frantic and when she was more frantic, her magic flowed freer, reaching him through the door. It poured into his lungs like warm water and unfroze his heart in the most painful way possible. He gasped in a noisy breath.

"Loke!"

He could feel that her keys were out. _Get up. Say something._ His vocal cords vibrated in his throat to spit out a rusty, "Yeah."

She hadn't heard him. She called his name again, higher-pitched this time. He could feel her anxiety. _Get up._ Before she used one of her spirits to burst through the door and he was revealed as a pretender.

He took in one last warming breath and then pushed out of bed. He almost fell forward. The wall caught him.

He had to stagger to the door and tare it open.

"Loke— _oh_!" She stepped back, surprised, and after a moment in which they just stared at each other, she put away her keys. "Sorry. You weren't answering and…"

She looked the same as she ever did: honey coloured eyes—darkly rimmed by black eyeliner—golden hair plaited over her shoulder, candy coloured lips, painted plum tonight, to go with the little thing she wore that some designer somewhere had managed to convince women was a dress. With a plunging neckline, cap sleeves, short hem and lace overlay…

Amazing. She looked amazing.

"What took you so long?" she prodded when he still hadn't said anything.

Loke tried his throat again and found it was working better. "I was sleeping."

Lucy slipped past him, inviting herself inside. "It's eight."

"Fuck." He'd slept in. He went for the pile of clothes he'd dug out earlier, glad to turn his back to her. "I'll meet you guys out there."

"Gray's already there."

"Why?"

"He wanted to scope the place out first. I told him that was okay, you and I could show up together."

A stone dropped in his stomach. Loke remained facing the opposite wall and said, "I was afraid of this."

She immediately saw where he was going. "Shut up, Loke."

He couldn't hear her, Gray was chittering in his head. _Sweet, you know_? Yeah. Lucy was sweet alright. Too sweet. She had no fucking idea what one-night stand meant. Fucking her in the morning certainly hadn't helped matters, either. He sighed. "I never meant to lead you on. Last night was drunk, and this morning was just for fun."

Lucy's pale brows knitted together. "I told you I knew what it was. Stop trying to make it weird."

"You're the one here, telling me you want to walk together."

"Because we're _working_ together."

"That's not just it." He was sure of it.

She propped her hands on her hips. "Sure, it was good and it was fun, but I can resist. I don't know what other girls have told you to make you so goddamn cocky."

She was lying—putting on a good face. It was in the way she worried at the inside of her lip, in the way she tried a little too hard to look good. Part of him wanted to be snarky. Part of him wanted to bully her to the bed and have her again, this time the way he wanted so she'd gasp and sob and see why he had a speech lined up for women like her. Remembering the sound of her skin against his, of her moan, made it awfully difficult to deny himself.

When it seemed like his resolve would break down, he told himself that wanting it so badly was an excellent reason not to give in.

Lucy misread his silence and retracted her statement. "I didn't mean no one would want you, Loke. If I didn't think you'll be on to the next girl by the end of the night..."

Then she'd be the exact girl he accused her of being.

Loke started exchanging his T-shirt for a black wrinkled and musty smelling dress shirt. He felt Lucy's eyes upon his body. Maybe she stared at the yellowed, nearly healed bruises on his back. maybe she stared at the sloppy patch job he did on his wrist, or the doctor's stitches that were slowly popping out of his skin, useless now that he'd mostly healed, wondering what to say and how to say it. He wanted to go into the bathroom to hide from her probing stare but was also relieved to stay right there.

And why?

Was he daring her to ask questions? Was that feeling actually relief that she knew?

The shirt was over his wrists and buttoned up and she didn't say anything. He worked on his pants next, shucking down all the way to his shorts, then yanking on a pair of dark and tight-fitting jeans. Knowing she still watched him, there was a witty and flirty comment on his tongue. It wouldn't come out.

Finally, to cover up the stale smell of the clothes that had been riding around in his pack for too long, he sprayed himself with body spray and called it done. Before turning to Lucy, he glanced in the mirror. His hair was messy and he looked frumpier than usual. There were deep bags under his eyes, even after he'd slept, and his skin was looking pale.

The cold ghost rapped on his heart again, reminding him that this façade was almost up.

Lucy came up behind him and brushed some dust and bits of lint off his shoulders. Loke jumped on contact; he'd forgotten that she was there. "Here." Lucy fixed his collar next, sneaking her fingers beneath the not-as-stiff-as-it-should-be lapel and tugging it straight. He stayed utterly motionless throughout the whole ordeal, prompting Lucy to ask, "Are you mad?"

"Mad?" Loke looked at her through the mirror. Somehow, it was less intense that way. His body was only shivering and not convulsing like it wanted to.

"Mad that we were together," she clarified, betraying her true nature. Lucy Heartfilia wasn't this confident girl she'd let Loke believe her to be. In fact, if he had to judge, she didn't do stuff like this. Maybe she didn't even know what she was doing. "I know you said you don't like celestial mages, and you've been kind of cold after yesterday."

"I'm not mad," Loke interjected before she could get any further. "I was just remembering you said you knew the score."

She made two loose fists and took her hands away from his shoulders. "Yeah."

Though he knew it would only confuse her more, Loke added, "You look good, Lucy."

She looked mad and then flattered like he knew she would. Lucy did like the chase, the yo-yo back and forth, the sudden burst of euphoria and then the withdrawal, just like him. Otherwise, why else would she be there?

"Come on." Loke touched the small of her back lightly, angling her towards the door. He purposefully left his coat behind on the way out. He wanted to feel how cold it was outside.


	8. Chapter 8

Gray leaned against the side of the Mansion, a cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of water in his hand. He looked better—a little less green, though still unhappy to be there. "We should have done the strip joint first," he said when they were close enough.

Less booze, more girls.

Loke shot a look Lucy's way, wondering what she thought of that. She was looking at the ground, as she'd been for most of the walk there, lost in her own thoughts, but at the mention of the strip club, she lifted her head; her cheeks were pink.

Still, she was practical. "Do you think we're wasting our time here?"

Gray studied the building and said reluctantly, "I think on any given night in the spring before tourist season really kicks off, the Mansion will be busier. More people means its easier to forget a face."

"If you're too hungover, we could split up," Loke said. "Divide and conquer. You take Lucy to the Phoenix, I'll hang out here." He could find his way to Karen free of judgement.

Gray wasn't feeling merciful. Or trustworthy, if that look meant anything. "We'll stick together, that way nothing stupid can happen."

He liked Gray better when they were chasing down women together, drinking until they were numb and dumb. He liked him when he'd get sloppy and Gray would only rap out a few curses, cart his ass back into his apartment, and throw him in the tub mostly naked so that when he puked, it would be easy to wash off.

He didn't like him much when he started playing Nanny.

Gray diligently ignored Loke's frustrated expression. "We got an update from Missus Agnatic earlier."

"Oh?"

"A girl got robbed last night at a place called Gruff's, another bar just down the road here. She caught a glimpse of the guy that was doing the robbing and told the police he was tall, dark hair, wiry build. Port accent."

"Anything else?" Loke prodded. "Tattoos? Piercings?"

"Nope."

"Nothing like a generic description to catch a thief on."

"It was dark and she was drunk."

"The old lady may as well have said nothing at all, it doesn't help us."

"It's a lot more than we had before," Lucy pacified.

She was right, of course, he was just being cranky.

Gray said, "Let's just get in there. We'll have a couple of drinks; just to blend in, but keep your head straight, okay? We'll stay until closing and put on a good show after. Drunk stumbling, slurring. Everything. Let's lure these guys out."

Cold hands closed on Loke's shoulders and a cold ghost cheek touched his. Karen whispered, "Hear that, Loke? He thinks you're here to pretend. You're not a faker though, are you? The best way to lure out your thieves is to just be yourself. They love wrecks. They'll love you. Messy, wrecky Loke."

Karen was right, too. He was no actor but he could do the real thing.

Lucy shifted, her body brushing his; Karen faded and Loke's ripped up arm burned like mad. He wanted her to stay right there. She moved on, though, and when she did, Karen pressed into his back again and said,

"You can't use her to keep me away. I'll always be here."

Loke didn't look at her and told the others, "Let's go get a beer."

* * *

The bar didn't really fill up until around 11 when a band took to the stage. They pumped out grungy tune after grungy tune, so loud, Loke's lungs reverberated.

It was slow at first but around twelve-thirty, most people were drunk enough that the dance floor seemed like a good place to be.

Lucy swayed at Loke's side, three drinks in and buzzed enough that she was giggly but sober enough that she could likely run if she needed to. She leaned way back on the stool she sat upon and planted her elbows on the bar. Her head rolled on her shoulders and she asked Loke, "Do you wanna?"

"What?"

"Dance." She nudged her chin outward towards where two girls were really getting into it. "It's what a tourist would do."

Loke flagged down the bartender and ordered another beer to buy himself some time to get reasonable. He couldn't dance with Lucy. It really would ruin his one-night stand brand. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"You're trying to look available to these guys. You don't want to be dancing with me," he said.

"People dance at a bar. Especially girls. They have different partners, too. Just because I dance with you at the beginning of the night doesn't mean I'll be dancing with you at the end."

She was right, of course. "I just got a beer." He took a huge swallow out of it.

Anger flashed behind her eyes; she doused it quickly and rolled her head the opposite way, toward Gray. "Will you, then? We look dumb just sitting here."

Gray's eyes lingered too long on Lucy's mouth, on her breasts, then came Loke's way, as if to remind him what he was sitting out on and asking if he was sure. Loke wasn't worried. Gray wasn't going to take her home and fuck her. He was going to try to bait Loke, though, to make him step up and admit Lucy was not one-night material. The _get it before it's too late_ routine.

Loke remained impassive; Gray wouldn't get him to crack.

Gray's brooding expression was back. He took Lucy by the elbow and stood. "Yeah, let's go, Lucy."

Lucy sent one last look his way, this side of haughty. Like she'd won something. Loke downed his beer so his mouth was too full to tell her that he'd changed his mind. When she was out there with her arms around Gray's throat, he moved on to whisky.

"That was almost cold."

"Shut up, Karen," Loke murmured under his breath so low that the guy a seat down from him wouldn't think he was speaking to himself.

"No, I'm proud of you. I almost believed that you didn't want to go out there with her. If it weren't for the disgusting way you're staring at her."

Loke turned from the dance floor and flagged down the bartender again.

* * *

She had dark skin, brown, heavy-lidded eyes, and a mouth that tasted like Sambuca.

She was drunk enough that when she pressed her face against the tiled wall and lifted her skirt up over her ass to reveal her black and pink bow-decorated thong, she resembled a splatted spider, albeit a happy one.

He bit her bare shoulder and yanked down the collar of her dress, exposing her breasts. The material ripped; she didn't complain, only wriggled her hips and muttered nonsensically. She was too fucking drunk. He was too fucking drunk. _This is how it should have been with Lucy_. Except he fucked up. Fucked her while he was sober. Wanted it too much.

_Stop thinking about her._ He took out a condom and put it on. The girl moaned eagerly, small puffs of air that he decided were absolutely fake, but he appreciated anyway, it kept his dick hard despite the odds.

He pulled the nameless girl's panties aside just as the door burst open. Loke looked into the mirror and saw Gray's head of messy hair.

"There you are—" Gray trailed off, taking in the scene.

Loke didn't even try to pretend he wasn't doing what he was. "What?"

To his credit, Gray recovered quickly. It wasn't the first time he'd found Loke like this, and likely wouldn't be the last. "Make it quick. The bar closes in fifteen."

The girl pushed her hair back and looked at Gray in the mirror. She preened. "Two?"

If Gray was less pissy with him, and Lucy wasn't out there waiting, but things were the way they were. Loke told her, "Not tonight."

Gray closed the door again without another word. Someone came in right after him and turned right back around when he saw what was happening. The girl laughed. Loke was annoyed.

"Maybe we should go into the stall?"

"'Kay."

He took her by the hips and angled her towards the handicapped stall at the front of the line. She moved like she had Slinkys in her bones.

Inside the stall, he placed her much in the same position, spreading her legs wide, readjusting her thong so it was over her ass cheek, then he closed and locked the stall door. When he turned back around, Karen had joined them, leaning against the wall. "What are you doing, Loke?"

"What's it look like?"

"Hm?" Loke's would-be partner hummed.

Loke scolded himself for engaging. "Nothing."

She accepted his answer and started playing with her tits.

"Did you go with her because she doesn't look like Lucy? Because I got to tell you, they were drinking the same thing."

"So what?"

"They flirt the same, disgusting way."

"Everyone flirts like that."

"And they're even kinda dressed alike. Tacky, slutty. Just fucking spewing out _I'm drunk, please fuck me and get charged for rape_ vibes."

Loke bit his cheek hard and focused on his partner instead of Karen. He pinched her breasts and her hips rocked back and brushed over the tip of his erection. She'd stopped moaning, though.

Loke ignored the signs.

"You're going to regret that," Karen cackled.

_Shut up._

_Shut up._

"If you say so."

Loke grabbed the girl by the waist and tilted her hips more. He bent his knees, too, so it was easier to slide into her.

"Hey," the girl said.

"What?"

Karen cackled like a witch.

"I think…" She shivered and moaned lowly, a tortured sound. It was coming whether he wanted it to or not.

Loke sighed pulled away from her. He pointed her over the toilet by way of apology and then pulled his condom off, threw it on the floor and tucked himself back into his pants. By the time the zipper was done up, she'd started retching.

That was about on par with his track record. He pulled open the stall door, went to the sink and washed his hands, then he exited and saw the girl's redheaded friend searching the floor relentlessly.

"She's in the men's," he told her. "Puking her guts up. Better take her home."

She opened her mouth, something scathing on her tongue, he was sure, but Loke didn't wait to hear it. He stumbled towards the bar, searching for Lucy; she was easy to find, sitting close to Gray, head inclined so she could hear what he said over the dulling noise. Did he smile too much to actually be leading Loke on? Oh, yeah. Gray liked her for real.

_That's fine_. Better than. Karen was right, he ran from her too much. If Lucy was with Gray, she wasn't with him and he didn't have a chance to be a cowardly piece of shit.

Loke fell into the seat next to Gray and flagged down the bartender. Seeing him, she said, "We just had last call. Sorry."

Loke smiled at her, the kind that had women tripping over him in the past. "I was in the washroom."

She gave him a hard look. "That's not really my problem."

"Come on, the till's still open." He could see the light flashing on the register. "Just a shot of whisky. I tip well." He pulled out his wallet and counted out too much money.

She looked up and down the bar before saying, "I shouldn't be doing this, you know. If anyone sees, I'm going to get an earful from every other drunk that wants just one more."

"I can keep a secret." He winked and a ghost of a smile came to her.

Loke could feel Lucy's eyes upon him as he accepted the shot and handed the girl her money. She pocketed it all then turned to put away some glasses.

Gray leaned in and confided, "We've had nothing all night. Looks like it was a big fucking waste of time."

"Do you think we should have gone to Green Phoenix?" Lucy worried.

Loke had a good feeling about this place, though.

The bartender swayed past to the other end. Loke caught her attention by tapping on the bar. "Eh. I got something to ask you."

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "If it's ' _can I have another whisky_?' the answer's no, not even for another tip. It's past last call and you're too drunk to be serving, anyway."

Loke said, "No, no. It's about a guy. We're looking for him. He comes in here sometimes. Semi-regular. Tall, dark hair, port accent."

"Sweetie, that's everyone that comes through the Mansion. We're a port town," she returned after a beat.

"You'd remember this guy. He sometimes causes trouble," Loke prodded.

" _Everyone_ here causes trouble," the woman said. "And by the look of it, you're no exception." There was no denying that. "What's this about?"

Loke shrugged. "Told you. Just looking for an old friend that sometimes passes through here."

"Adult me doesn't keep troublesome friends; most don't, in fact. Are you bounty hunters or something?"

Loke laughed; it came out easy and genuine sounding. "That's a good one. No. We just haven't seen each other in awhile, he's always working, me, too. But I was in the area and heard his ship was coming into port this week and thought we'd catch up."

"What's the ship?"

Loke hadn't expected her to ask.

Gray interjected smoothly, "The Hexagenia, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Loke said, thankful. Gray was always good that way.

"That one's coming in early next week, I think." The woman relaxed a little. "What's your friend's name? I'll keep my eye out for him."

"Eh, don't worry about it," Loke said and pushed the empty drink at her. "We're going to be gone in a few days. Come on, guys."

He studied the remaining people on his way out. Only one of them was a tall guy with dark hair, and he was so fat, he didn't look like he could chase down and overpower anyone.

Loke drunk-walked anyway, trying to lure out their perpetrator. He didn't even have to pretend that hard; he was pretty hammered, that last shot catching up with him already on his empty stomach. Gray grabbed him by the back of the shirt to keep him from going over when his foot snagged on a bar stool. Lucy wriggled under his arm on his other side. Her fingers closed on his forearm and burned straight through his shirt, digging into the long gash there mercilessly. She seemed to realize at the last second that she was hurting him and loosened her grip, but the damage was already done; he was bleeding again.

"Sorry."

He wasn't.

He pulled her closer and, with their job in mind, started singing loud and off-key all the way out of the door and into the streets. Gray joined him. it was probably the worst thing he'd ever heard, but it was attention-grabbing. Lucy looked humiliated.

There were a few people loitering around outside the bar—none of them matching the description.

Fuck.

Loke slowed and went rummaging through his pocket, pulling out his wallet and shoving it at Gray. "Hold this."

Gray went rooting through it. "Where'd you get all this cash?" His voice was purposefully too loud.

_Come on. Come on._

Some people looked at them, but no one made a move.

From his breast pocket, Loke pulled out a crumpled package of stale cigarettes and shoved one into his mouth, buying some time. "That big job we just did," he said, searching his pockets for his lighter. He found it and brought it out. Lucy leaned away when he puffed the cigarette into life, turning her nose up at the smell.

They started walking again, Loke turning his eyes out to look at the surrounding people, watching for anyone breaking away from their group or coming out of the shadows.

Nothing.

"I don't think this is going to work," Lucy whispered.

"Take the alley."

"We're not letting her wander off on her own," Gray said.

"Come on. One last ditched effort—we won't be far."

"I'll do it," Lucy said.

"Good. Keep your eyes on her, Gray, I'll go around to the next road," Loke said. "Meet you guys over there."

"You're good?" Gray nudged gently.

Loke clenched his jaw and took back his wallet. "I can handle it."

Gray relented without much fight. "Fine."

Turning away from them, Loke tucked his cigarette into the corner of his mouth and started walking. The streets rapidly quieted away from the Mansion until the Green Phoenix came into view. The strip club stayed open later than the bar.

Around the side, a few women in skimpy outfits leaned against the crooked building, smoking and drinking and talking. He ignored them—strippers were only fun when they were dancing—and cut through the alley into the street beyond. Here only half of the street lamps were illuminated.

Fast footsteps coming up behind him had him slowing and his heart beating harder. He puffed on his cigarette and stumbled into one of the puckered brick walls of some generic building; he wished it was more of an act—his vision was blurring a little too much.

The footsteps slowed. "I really think tonight might be the night, Loke. If you don't run again. If you don't ask her to save you."

Loke searched for Karen and found her in a clump of shadows. He couldn't see her eyes and he didn't like it one bit. "I never asked."

"Never with your words but she felt you, Loke, reaching out to her, begging her to spare just a bit of her magic, to take this hapless, cowardly soul of yours and rescue you from your penance."

"No. It wasn't like that."

Her voice travelled and whispered into his ear, cold and slippery and sticky and toxic like mercury, "Then what was it like?"

"I was just…"

"Just…"

"Trying…"

"To?"

"Feel the celestial realm. I just wanted to feel it. Just once. Once more."

"That's right. And it wasn't because you wanted to hurt yourself," Karen told him.

"No, it _was_. That was it," Loke insisted.

"You just wanted to remember what you had so when you came to me, you'd feel rightly remorsed?" Karen offered.

"Yes."

She turned on him like a winter's storm. "Because you don't fucking feel guilty for what you did."

"No, that's not it."

"Of course it is. You think I'm horrible, don't you? The worst master. Selfish. Just say it. I deserved to die."

"No."

"Yes. That's what you think. I deserved it. Say it."

"I don't want to—"

She stepped forward. "I deserved to die. Repeat me, Loke."

"No, Karen."

"I did." She stepped closer again. He could almost see her eyes. He wanted to close his own but he was afraid of what he'd find in that darkness. "I deserved it."

"That's not what I think."

A manic aura surrounded her. "You _do._ Admit it. Admit that you think I deserved it."

"Karen—"

"I _deserved_. I deserved it. To die. I deserved to die." She gripped his arm, fingers like cold chains, and yanked him in. Her eyes were _black_. Moonless night black. "And so do you. Repeat. I deserve to die. I—" One by one her nails cut into his skin. "Deserve—" Her breath was putrid, cloves and must and mould.

Karen opened her worm of a mouth to finish, but then her lips slouched. She released him like he'd scalded her and she took a step back into the shadow. "Wait, Karen—"

She backpedaled fast, and almost like a spider sliding into a nook, she started to fold in on herself. He didn't want to be alone. "Wait. You're right. I do deserve it. I—I should have been with you. It should have been me that got hurt. I should have done what I was supposed to. I shouldn't have let you go. I deserve this. I—" He reached for her and someone reached for him, a hand closing on his elbow and yanking him back into reality. He was in an alley, speaking to a shadowy blot between a broiler and an exhaust fan.

He was wrenched around and came face-to-face with Gray. Lucy was at his back looking small and scared. "Loke, what the fuck?"

Loke had to work to find his voice. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Looking for _you_. You walked right past the alley," Gray said.

_Way_ past the alley. He didn't even recognize where he was. "Guess I got turned around," Loke lied.

One of Gray's brows went up. "Okay. What the fuck was that?"

"What?"

"Who were you talking to?"

It felt like acid was dripping down his throat. "Just, ah… my communication lacrima. Someone called. I was talking to them through it."

Neither of them believed him and why would they? He didn't even _have_ a communication lacrima.

Gray shoved his hands through his hair and sighed. Lucy touched Loke's hand gently. Her _magic._ Loke pulled away from her and said, "Those guys didn't hit. You want to go back to the bar and try again?"

"It's almost four," Gray said. "I think that's it. If they didn't come out tonight, we'll try again tomorrow."

Loke looked over his shoulder; Karen was gone. "Yeah."

* * *

Loke lined up three miniature bottles of alcohol he'd rummaged out of his mini-fridge from best to worst, then drank them from worst to best. They coiled in his stomach like a bag of snakes and clouded his thoughts like lake fog.

He could still _feel_ Karen. He could still _see_ her mouth, wet and limp. He could still feel her hands on his arms. _Cold._

He tore open the fridge and pushed aside a chocolate bar, a yogurt and went straight for the vodka. It tasted like rubbing alcohol.

Loke could feel Lucy beyond his door well before she knocked. He stared at the barrier, willing her to go away. Her fist met the door. He jarred, then stared and stared.

"I know you're in there."

Loke tightened his hold on his vodka bottle, wondering is she could feel him the same way he could feel her and if that meant his secret was out.

"Can I come in?"

She waited an entire fifteen seconds before deciding for him and opened the door. She did it slowly and poked her head in like she expected the worst—him bleeding again or getting ready to yell at her. She'd undone her braid, her hair crimped and curled and clung to her shoulder. She still hadn't changed her dress, though.

She found him; relief washed some of the worry from her face. "Hey."

In an attempt to be glib, Loke tipped the entire bottle of vodka into his mouth. It burned all the way down. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "You come here to have a couple drinks, Lucy?"

She said back just as glibly, "Looks like you've drunk most of it already."

"Almost all," he admitted with a grin. "But I got some gin here." He grabbed that out of the fridge's door as well and went to the bed, flopping down on the soft mattress.

Lucy came in further and stood in front of him. He leaned back to see her properly. Her eyes were still lined and her lashes were still coated in mascara and her mouth was still that dark plum. He wondered what that lipstick tasted like. Poison, maybe.

Lucy leaned in close enough he thought she was going to kiss him, but only took the open bottle of alcohol from his hand. "Did you know her?"

He felt a stone drop in his stomach. "Who's that?"

"That girl you snuck off with tonight."

It would be stupid to deny her; it was stupid to think that he had to; he still said, "You saw that?"

"Everyone saw that. Was she a friend of yours?"

"No, I didn't know her."

She rolled her eyes as if to say, _what is it about you, Loke, that makes women so easy_? She asked, "Did you think she was pretty?"

He didn't understand her motive. "…She was alright."

"Prettier than me?"

His throat burned. He wanted to tell her, yes, to scare her away, he wanted to tell her no to make her stay. He circumvented both and asked, "What are you doing here, Lucy?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

She shrugged. "You were kind of cold to me tonight."

"Was I?"

"You told me I looked nice, and then you ignored me all night. You wouldn't dance with me, but you've been staring at me."

_Have I been?_

"And then, when I'm dancing with Gray, you find someone to occupy your time so you don't have to think about what I'm doing."

"That's a stretch."

"I don't think so," she said matter-of-factly. "But you didn't answer me. Was she? Prettier than me, that is."

He told her, "I don't remember."

"Do you forget all the girls you're with?"

"That's how I like it." So what if it made him sound like a dick?

"Did you forget how I was?"

He hesitated, not knowing which answer was better or worse than the other.

Lucy touched his cheek. "Loke?"

Her makeup was a little smudged under her glossy eyes. Loke liked it like he liked everything about her. "No. But I want to."

Lucy pressed her other hand against his other cheek. "Really? Because even though you ran off with someone else, I think you like the way this feels, just like I do." Magic trickled out of her body and played over his. "I think you wouldn't give it up if you could help it."

Loke felt like an addict, wanting to pull her closer. He forced himself to say, "Gray will be nicer to you."

Lucy responded, "If I wanted to be with Gray right now, then I would be." She sounded cocky and sure. Loke thought it was the alcohol she'd drunk earlier. He tried to bring some reason to it all.

"Aren't you mad I was with someone else?"

"If you were mine then I would be." She put her fingers through his hair.

"I didn't fuck her." He didn't tell her why he didn't; Lucy seemed to draw her own conclusion.

"Do you want to be mine, Loke?" she asked pointedly.

"In a lot of ways." The words just slipped out, unbidden.

Her eyes flashed like she was a hawk on his trail. "Tell me."

_Tell me. Tell me your secrets. Tell me._

She _knew._ Maybe. His lungs got tight. "I can't, Lucy."

Her expression softened some. "Kiss me, then."

Because that was better. Less taxing. Only, not at all. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this again."

"Why not?"

"Because I like it."

"That sounds like a silly reason not to do something."

Didn't it? It felt that way, looking into her eyes.

Lucy leaned in when he wouldn't bring her closer. "Kiss me."

It wasn't that much of a stretch between them, a hairsbreadth, really. It was easier to kiss her than to not.

Her lipstick was sweet; it made her lips dry. He touched her bottom lip with his tongue, moistening it. Lucy's response was immediate and pleasing. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck and found his tongue with hers. He could taste the beer she'd drunk.

She lifted her legs up and planted them on either side of his hips. The mattress squealed. She pressed her body into his. Everything was suddenly very loud. Loke leaned away from Lucy to catch his breath.

"Don't stop," she complained.

"Lucy—" How did he explain what was happening? He didn't _know._

"Just don't stop."

Lucy Heartfilia drove him mad. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry. He kissed her. He kissed her until Lucy got frustrated with just that and leaned to the side, sending them both off balance and onto the mattress, Lucy on her back, Loke on top of her. Her dress rode up. Beneath it was a pair of black panties, smooth and silky with a little bit of sheen in the lamplight. His hand found her thigh while his mouth found hers again.

Lucy started tugging on his shirt, trying to get it off his body. Loke broke away to help her. Lucy eyed his body, staring at his chest and roving over his shoulders and his arms appreciatively until she got to his forearms. There her eyes lingered, a sad and curious look coming to them.

_Don't ask. Don't. Ask_.

She didn't, but she did grab his wrists and pull his arms up so they were planted on either side of her face. Then she tipped her head to the right and kissed the edge of his sloppy, blood-spotted bandage, her mouth half on his skin, half not. It was fire. It was amazing. She did it again.

It was also too much. "Lucy—don't."

She moved her head to the other side and kissed the white papery scars. "Just let me."

_I'm addicted to this_. To the way it hurt. It certainly didn't take long.

Arching his back brought his hips to hers. She moaned, low and dark, and licked his wrist. His head swam. Is this what it's going to be like every time? No, because this was the last.

It was hard, but he managed to draw his arm away from her mouth. She looked like she was going to fuss, then he started pulling at his pants and the crease between her brows eased; a smile came to her lips. Somehow it was more genuine than other girls'. No one really looked at him like that—like they wanted him, not the relief he could offer them from whatever shit they were running from, too.

Gods. This girl was going to kill him.

Button and zipper undone, his pants rested just on his hips. "Get up for a second."

Lucy did as he asked, rising and finding him with her hand, squeezing first through the material of his pants, then getting bold and sneaking beneath. He breathed out slowly; this wasn't what he'd meant, though he certainly didn't fight when she teased with nimble fingers, then pulled him out and ran her thumb over the tip.

She caught his gaze and held it until it became too much to look at her; Loke kissed her, thinking that would help things. Not at all. Frustrated, he yanked her dress from her shoulders; the material was stretchy with no zippers and no buttons.

Lucy released him until the material was down around her breasts, taking her arms out of the armholes, then she went right back to what she was doing. Her hands worked him into a frenzy.

Her bra and panties matched. Silken and smooth, the material was thin enough that he could see her nipples pressing against it, hard. He couldn't resist bending and taking one into his mouth. The silk was dry on his tongue; it was a tease, really, a tease for him, a tease for her. She caught her breath and found his hair again, keeping him pressed tightly to her body until she decided that it wasn't enough and started tearing at her bra band. The latch at the back popped open and her breasts spilled out, the bra just a little too small.

The garment thrown aside, her hand went searching between his legs again, pumping faster than before. Feeling lightheaded and disjointed, Loke eagerly gathered her up in both hands and kissed and licked until she moaned.

"Loke…" His name was sweet out of her mouth. She tugged on his hair, pulling him away from her breasts. "Loke, kiss me."

Always. She always wanted his mouth. Maybe because it was the hardest thing to give to her. He kissed her until he couldn't, then pushed her away, forcing her back onto the mattress.

Loke took a moment to get a condom. By the time that was on, Lucy had taken her panties and pulled them down around her ankles. Loke threw them aside and climbed between her legs. He kissed her collarbone and Lucy raised her hips, forcing him to brush over her. He moaned unintentionally and his partner looked all too pleased with herself.

Loke edged inside of her, feeling her walls expand for him. She was wet and pulsing. And hot. Her body was so warm to touch. Like she was burning up.

Karen's voice whispered in his ear, "It's you, Loke." Not Lucy at all.

He looked through his lashes and narrowed in on Lucy, afraid to look elsewhere, like that pile of shadows in the corner of the room. Lucy's cheeks were the colour of pink apples, her plum coloured lipstick smeared across her mouth. She looked chaotic. Gods. He thrust inside of her and listened to her hiccupping breath.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in close, and started to play with her breasts, squishing them together and lifting them for his waiting mouth. Her skin tasted like vanilla and was soft.

Lucy's eyes cracked open and she caught him staring. She opened her mouth and Loke expected, _'kiss me, Loke_ ,' to come out. It was a hot, low moan instead, the kind that had him sweating and thrusting harder. Her hands grasped at his shoulders, burning his skin.

He couldn't look at her anymore and turned his eyes away. That black blob was still waiting for him in the corner. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the feeling of Lucy's nails digging into his back, drawing out blood and magic he didn't really have to give.

Everything. Everything was too much.

"Turn over."

Lucy's eyes flew open. "What?"

Loke picked himself up and slid out of her so she could move. His chest rose and fell obnoxiously fast and he hadn't even been doing too much. "Turn over, Lucy."

She pinched her lips together and did as he asked, getting to her knees. "Are you going to get on your back again?"

"No." Loke got in behind her, then using his hands he spread her legs wide. Lastly, he pushed her down between her shoulder blades. "Put your cheek against the mattress." It was a vulnerable position; he thought she was going to tell him to fuck off, it was only the second time, after all. He kind of hoped she would, actually. She didn't. What a disappointment. Her arms stretched up over her head, her cheek found the bed sheets.

Getting in close, he found her again and slid inside. It was easier this way, not having to look at her face, and he could get in deeper. Lucy cried out loudly; Loke, enjoying the sound, endeavored to make her do so again and again, moving quickly without giving her much of a chance to get used to the new position.

Lucy turned her face into the sheets as if that would muffle the noise. It only made Loke go harder. Her body tightened like a vice around his and then convulsed. He slowed, giving her screams a chance to turn to sobs, then whimpers, then he went right back to it, bringing her to another ear-piercing orgasm in seconds. And another. He slowed only so he could reach around and grab her breasts.

Panting, Lucy lifted her head and sobbed out, "Again."

Loke pinched her one more time then pounded into her, one hand planted on her ass and spreading her wide, the other gripping her thigh tight enough to leave a bruise. She didn't complain, not at all, in fact, she came again, fingers fisting weakly into the pillows, breath literally wheezing, skin awash in goosebumps, magic sloughing off her.

Gods. It was enough to drown in, and he'd drown fucking happy. And miserable to be that way.

"Again, Loke. Make me come again." She was so demanding when his head was spinning so much it felt like it could fly off when his skin felt like it was being pricked by a million needles.

"Please."

He realized that her fingers were between her legs, rubbing furiously because he'd slowed to a crawl. Again and again, she whispered, 'Please." His cock got harder; his head got number. "Please. Make yourself come. Make me come. Please." She started rocking back on him, taking matters into her own hands.

_Get your shit together._ Loke squeezed her ass and her inner thigh; she moaned. _You can do this. You can't even see her face._ Yes. He could do this. Encouraged, he started moving faster again; the further away he ran, the closer everything he couldn't touch seemed.


	9. Chapter 9

They were in that old graveyard again. Karen was leaning against the decaying concrete of an ancient grave. She reached out and traced the longest cut on Loke's forearm. "You're not just hurting yourself."

"Of course I am," Loke replied.

She released his arm to flip her light green hair through her fingers. "What about my feelings? I thought we were going to spend some time together?”

"Lucy…" Put a stop to that.

Karen's fingers were back on his body. They were hoarfrost. They were the longest northern winter night. They were familiar. And welcoming. And… "When it's over, do you think she'll cry, Loke?"

He imagined that yes, she would. Lucy was that kind of girl. _Sweet, you know?_

“Maybe you should tell her what you did so she’s less tempted. She might even be glad to see you go after she finds out what you did to me.”

“Lucy’s better than that.”

“Better than me, you mean?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant. We both know how I’d deal with a spirit like you.”

“You were a good master, Karen.”

She tipped her head back. “ _Liar._ But you know what? That’s okay. You can go ahead and lie. When you _finally_ fucking die, it’ll be sweeter knowing that you _really, really_ don’t want to be here with me but you have to be anyway. It’ll be what you deserve.”

“Gods.” Loke shook his head.

“ _What_ , cocksucker? _What_? Do you think I’m… _horrible_?” One slick, rotting finger traced his temple. “Do you think I’m _wrong_ to want what I want? Because, baby, your king knows what you did was wrong and you’re fucking _banned_ from the spirit realm, condemned to die _slowly_ in pain, going _mad_ , a fucking ghost and a pretender in a world that doesn’t fucking want you. _No one_ wants you.” Her hand moved to the back of his head and her nails dug into his scalp. “Except for me.”

He pressed his hands against his temples and said something terrible. “Go away, Karen.”

She laughed. “No. You'll never be free of me. That's not the way this works. You stole my life."

"Aries—"

"Was a _tool_. _Immortal_. I could put a bullet through her head and after an hour in the spirit realm, guess what? She'd be good as new."

Of course she would be.

“Me, though… ha. Once my time was up…” She snapped her fingers. “No second chances.”

"I didn't…" _I didn't what?_ _I didn't think?_ He thought, and he thought about _that_ quite a bit. Did Karen have to die? Was it worth it? "What was I supposed to do?"

"Not kill your master. We had a contract, and that was the cardinal rule."

He thrust his fingers through his hair again, then pressed his healing palms into his damp eyes. "Karen..." His most secret thought was pushing in.

"You don't have to be afraid. I'll do it for you, that's what masters are for, Loke, to make the hard decisions." She cupped his face and brushed away the tears. “Just tell me it’s okay. Tell me you want this and I’ll take care of everything.”

Loke swallowed the lump in his throat and wheezed out, “What if I don’t want to?”

Karen’s face got ugly. “You don’t _get_ to want. Wanting is for _people_. You aren’t _people._ You’re a spirit that couldn’t do his fucking job. Now you have to _repent._ ” Her hand moved over his heart, so, so cold. “Tell me you want to repent.”

“You _were_ horrible.”

“Tell me.” The spot on his chest got colder.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Good. Tell me you want to _repent,_ Loke.”

He was having a hard time catching breath to say _anything_. _You’re dying. You are. This is what it feels like._ The anvil on his chest, the cold gripping his lungs. His heart struggled to beat.

Karen’s eyes glowed. “And it’s still not enough pain to make up for what you did to me.” Her hand turned as a claw and her filthy nails dug into his chest; one broke and foam touched his skin, pussy and sick smelling, the others just cut in. Blood came up, and his magic, the last threads that were keeping him alive. Karen pushed in harder, like she wanted to reach them and cut them and separate him from everything. Loke tried to yell; where was the _oxygen_?

Karen gasped and the pain eased all at once. Loke opened his eyes. Karen was taking her hand away and rubbing the tips of her fingers like she’d been electrocuted. The cold in his chest started retreating and in its place came warmth. Not just warmth, but _Lucy_ ’ _s_ warmth. She called him and he _had_ to respond.

“Don’t _go,_ Loke!” Karen griped.

He couldn’t say anything to her, picked up from the graveyard and deposited messily in his hotel room. It was dark but Loke made out Lucy leaning over him, her hand on his chest where Karen’s had been, her face within inches of his. “Loke?”

He scrabbled for his voice. He couldn’t find it at first and had to touch her hand to let her know he was there, and awake. Her magic was just pushing into his skin and his heart was beating for it.

Lucy told him, “You’re okay.”

“Thank you,” he finally rasped.

She put her head on his chest. More magic. More and more, came out of her until he felt like he wasn’t standing at the very edge of a very tall cliff.

Despite the mild fuzziness and dull pounding in his head, Loke woke as comfortable as he'd ever been. In his nose was the smell of vanilla, and his skin felt warm. Alive.

When he first opened his eyes, he saw late afternoon sunlight trickling through the Marduk's copper drapes. Then he saw a weave of spun gold hair. Then he realized what had woken him. Lucy's fingers traced over his stomach, sneaking low to where the blankets were bunched around his waist, then up again, playing through his abdominal muscles like she was weaving through a maze. Her fingers left trails of goosebumps, trails of magic. His skin twitched every few seconds. Below the blankets, he was hard, whether simply because it was morning or because she kept sneaking lower and lower, teasing around his groin. He kept hoping she’d get brave.

Karen showed her decaying face in the shadiest corner of the room, smiling like a jackal, trying to kill his buzz.

Lucy dipped low again. Loke grabbed her wrist just before she could touch him for real. Startled, she tipped her face back to look at him. She looked abashed and caught red-handed. "Loke..." Her voice was scratchy with sleep. It soaked into his skin like the searing rays of the sun, both warming and burning. He could listen to it forever and never get bored.

He cleared his throat then swallowed, remembering last night's events. _'Make me come_.' Her late-night words desiccated his mouth and left him harder than previous. _Just stop thinking about that,_ he told himself like it would help much. Lucy's naked body was all over his, warm and sweet smelling, round and plump and— "You stayed here?" Loke made sure that the way he asked wasn't _'Oh, good morning, you stayed here last night? That's nice._ ' It was more like, _'why the fuck would you do that?_ '

Lucy was resilient. “I was comfortable, and you looked it, too."

“That’s sweet,” Karen said.

He flicked his eyes her way for only a second. She looked limper this morning than she did last night, her hair and her mouth and her skin sagging around her eyes. She showed him her teeth; they were grey and green.

Lucy laid a kiss on his chest, right over his heart. The touch rocked through him. She kissed again, a pliable thing that went well beyond a peck. He closed his eyes.

"Can we talk about this, Loke?" Her fingers slid down his arm to his bandage.

Keeping his eyes closed he said a swift and painless, "No." It was an automatic response that he reserved for all of the girls he slept with when they wanted to get friendly, but it went doubly for Lucy and anything she had to say.

"It makes you uncomfortable."

It was a statement but he felt obligated to answer anyway. "It makes everyone uncomfortable."

"That's not true," she said.

Loke's fingers twitched around the soft blanket. "Talking's never done anyone any good."

"I just—"

"Don't know anything, Lucy," he finished.

"Who is Karen?"

Her question knocked the wind out of him. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "What?"

"You were talking in your sleep—multiple times. Who is she?"

It took a moment to recover but he finally managed to choke out, "She's no one."

Karen _tisked_ in the corner of the room. "She knows more than you give her credit for. Why not just say your secret? You’ll feel better.”

Loke was careful to keep his eyes away from her.

"Loke, please," Lucy began.

"Tell the poor girl, Loke," Karen whispered. "See what she thinks about the leader of the 12 Zodiac Keys."

_Shut up. Shut up._

Karen lowered down onto the armchair in the corner and posed. “I’m ready. Go ahead.”

"Please, Loke," Lucy pressed. "You can tell me." She gripped his bandaged arm lightly. It had never felt more uncomfortable. His blood throbbed along, sickly warm in his veins. _Pretender. Pretender_ , it seemed to say with each pulse.

Karen leaned in exaggeratedly, cocking her ear. “Come on, Loke. Just open your mouth. Say something.”

"Loke? I'm worried about you.'

 _Answer her._ He spat it out. Or… as much as he could bear. "Karen… She's…" _Just a girl. My old master._ Neither accurately described her. "She's a ghost." Figuratively and literally.

"A ghost?"

"She's dead." Saying it aloud was a painful kind of relief.

"…Oh." She rolled her lip between her teeth. “You were close."

Close. Yes. That seemed like a safe term. Sort of.

Lucy said, “I'm sorry."

It sounded so genuine and heartfelt; he couldn't bear to look at her. In fact, he didn't know how he was still managing to touch her. _Move then_. His body was still firmly tacked in place.

Karen said, “Oh, don’t stop there, Loke. You’re just getting to the good part.”

_Go away._

Lucy trailed her fingers over his chest again. “Do you—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Lucy," Loke said abruptly.

She looked abashed. “Alright.”

Finally, he figured out how to make his body move. He started extracting himself from Lucy's hold.

"Hang on," Lucy protested.

"No.” He had to get up. The bed suddenly didn't feel big enough. Claustrophobia was pressing in when he'd never had the problem before.

Lucy took his hand and brought it to her waist in an attempt to ground him. "Loke, wait."

Touching her did actually calm him some. Enough for him to say in a nearly rational voice, "I have to get up, Lucy."

“I won’t ask any more questions.”

“It doesn’t matter. I just have to get up.” He had to get up and he had to go to the washroom and he had to repent. _Repent. Repent. Repent_.

Lucy touched his face, wiping away some stray wetness caught in the hollow just in front of his ear. Loke’s face got hot with shame. He pushed away from her, longing to be free. Lucy followed him and kissed him with dry and warm lips, chaste and meant to soothe. It made him completely immobile. He just let it happen, though inside his head was a riot.

“How many times can a girl break you _keep it casual_ kissing rule, huh?” Karen asked.

If her name was Lucy Heartfilia, too many.

Lucy skimmed her fingers over his neck and back down his stomach. She came up again, searching for his arm, for his hand, then placed it on her body, just under her ribs. Loke opened his eyes and met hers. They were soft, doe-like. Large. She licked her still partially stained lips and rolled over on her back, bringing him with her. She spread her legs so he was fully between them and Karen fled.

"This is better than talking." Loke felt it necessary to add that bit while looking down at her luminous skin. That didn't sound like something someone who cared would say.

Lucy's eyes flashed. "Sometimes."

Every. Fucking. Time.

His hands travelled up to cup her breasts while he pushed his hardness into her center in an attempt to disrupt her thoughts. She kissed him again, tongue seeking, hands roving. Loke broke away to kiss between her legs. Lucy gasped. When she gasped she wasn't asking questions.

He used quick flicks of his tongue followed by slow, laborious licks, then inserted first one finger, then the other. Her body was eager. She moaned and bucked her hips. In the back of his mind reason kept trilling, _you shouldn't be doing this. Not now. Not with Lucy. You're too sober for this._

Her fingers fisted in his hair and he couldn't stop. Angling his fingers, he found the sweet spot, the one that made her croon and moan and grasp thoughtlessly at his shoulders. When she came, it was in a rush of swearing and sweating and shaking. Her legs clamped tightly around his shoulders, her back bowed as taut as a bowstring. Loke looked up the line of her body, between her swelling and heaving breasts, and found her flushed cheeks framed by a cloud of golden hair.

_'Do you want to be mine?'_

_'In a lot of ways.'_

In this way, certainly.

The hotel room got fuzzy around the edges. Loke closed his eyes and rode out the sudden and vicious dizzy spell. It was a good thing he wasn't standing; he'd probably be on the ground with a broken skull if that were the case.

Lucy's hand found his chin, the other his shoulder and she pulled him up. It was easier to move with her touching him, but still disorienting. "Come here."

He took his hand out of her body and planted it instead on the bed between her ribs and her arm, preparing for what came next.

She didn't disappoint.

"Kiss me, Loke."

Like she was a flame and he a hapless, stupid moth, he did it, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She wasn't shy about it either, deepening the kiss and grasping his middle so she could tilt her hips for him. Kissing her felt even rawer than last night; he could bear it for less time than he thought. He broke away under the guise of putting on a condom. He was careful to look at the bedsheets beside her head as he did it. "Turn around."

Her mouth dropped to his jaw and nipped. "Not today."

His stomach clenched. "Lucy—"

"Trust me." She tilted her hips again, effectively taking him into her body. Loke hissed and closed his eyes. Nothing was ever meant to feel that good.

"Look at me."

 _'Look at me. Repent. Repent_.' He didn't want to. He did anyway, half expecting to see Karen. It was just Lucy, starry-eyed, plum lipped, messy haired. His hips started moving all on their own. She panted and caught his mouth. That was torture.

Loke thrust into her without any plans of making it feel good for her. Some girls, he could fuck for hours like that and there wouldn’t be an orgasm in sight. Not Lucy. She reached over her head and strangled the blankets and orgasmed. It was a chain reaction, she pulled him down a long, deep hole where he fucked her hard and she cried ecstasy and pulled an orgasm out of him without much effort.

He pulled out of her immediately afterwards and pulled on a pair of pants. He snatched up his knife and moved towards the washroom.

"Loke?"

Loke stiffened, his hand on the knob of the bathroom door. "Yeah?"

"You don't have to do that."

"You don't know anything, Lucy."

He closed the door and went to work on his leg. Down there at least, Lucy wouldn't look at it and croon in pity, she wouldn't kiss it and she wouldn't touch it. _She won't anyway_. Because this time was the last.

Karen pressed down on his shoulder. “Fuck me. How many times will you say that?”

“As many times as it takes to make it true,” Loke whispered.

“I guess at least you know you’re in shit.” Karen sat down across from him and together, they watched the blood leak onto the bathroom tile. When the blood started to slow, Karen lost interest and went wherever it was ghosts went when they were bored. Loke started to clean up, using toilet paper to sop up the blood and then flushing it.

When he came back out, Lucy was still there. She rose, completely naked, and came to him. She took him by the elbows. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, pushing her body against his.

Loke kissed her. He couldn’t not. Lucy pulled back first and drifted into the bathroom to shower. He listened to the water come on and then the droplets hit the bottom of the tub after she stepped underneath the spray.

He dressed, pulling on a long-sleeved grey shirt to go with his light coloured, torn up jeans. It needed to be so concealing. Lucy took up Karen’s mantel and haunted his thoughts, her melodic voice telling him _you don’t have to do that._

A dangerous thought snuck in and he wondered _what if I didn’t?_

“Then who would you be?” Karen asked.

“I don’t know.”

A knock on the door jarred him from his reverie. Gray waited on the other side in a dark long-sleeved T-shirt and dark jeans. "Hey." His eyes fell to the faded bruises on Loke's chest. He still hadn’t done up his shirt. "Doing alright, eh?" Loke worked on the buttons and Gray rolled his eyes. He came into the room and had something else to pick apart. The underwear on Loke’s floor, and the bra. "Am I interrupting?"

“Hm? Nope.” Loke shook his head.

“Then whose are those?”

They were _way_ past the ignorant card but Loke tried. “What?”

Gray picked up the huge black cups of Lucy’s bra and waggled them through the air. “These, asshole.”

The shower turned off. “You have to leave.” Gray couldn’t know that Lucy was there again. Loke could already imagine the triumphant _look at you, trying not to fuck up_ , look on Gray's face. And then the disappointment when Loke admitted he was fucking up harder than ever.

Sometimes he'd have the same girl a few times, but they never stayed over, not like this. They never showered at his place. They never shared kisses afterwards. They didn't _talk_. Their presence was punctuated by the walk of shame. Sending them off with their panties tucked into their purse the next morning. _Not_ left crumpled on the ground while they freshened up.

"Who is it?" There was a knowing look to Gray's eye.

Loke stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and tried to look casual, all the while praying that Lucy just stayed the fuck in the washroom for another few minutes. "No one."

"Yeah?"

Loke shrugged. "Just some chick from the Mansion last night."

Gray gave him a look of disgust. “Seriously? The one in the washroom?”

Loke shrugged again.

“She was a fucking mess.”

“So what?”

Gray sucked on his tooth; that was his lecture face. The bathroom door opened then and saved him from what was sure to be an earful. Lucy exited wrapped only in a towel that was just a little small. Her eyes were cast to the ground while she worked her fingers through the knots in her hair.

Loke and willed her to slink back to where she came from before Gray noticed. It was much, _much_ too late for that. Gray's eyes trailed over Lucy's form, a lightning fast and shit-eating grin coming to his face. Like he won or something.

"Guess that's _one_ girl from the Mansion, anyway."

“Holy fuck.”

Lucy’s head jerked up. She clutched the front of the towel and looked back and forth between Gray and Loke. Her whole chest and neck were red. It went a shade darker when she realized that Gray was still holding her bra. Gray followed her eyes to the garment and then he held it out to her.

“Yours?”

Lucy took it wordlessly and grabbed her dress, too. She retreated back into the washroom, the door closing solidly behind her. Loke stared at the barrier, unsure if he should be grateful Gray embarrassed Lucy (did that mean she'd stop crawling into his bed?) or angry (because, honestly, did that mean she'd stop crawling into his bed?). _Grateful,_ he told himself _, you should be fucking grateful because this has got to stop_.

Gray swivelled on him. “I can’t fucking believe you lied about bringing her back here.”

Loke squinted. “Really? You can’t believe that?”

Gray reconsidered. “Okay. Yeah.”

“You embarrassed her.”

“You should have said something.”

He should have.

Gray tried to turn the conversation back to a place where he was comfortable. "Guess it's a little more serious than you thought, eh? What is that, two times? That's almost a record.”

Loke said, "Nothing's going on."

"So, if nothing's happening, I'll ask her out. You're cool, right?"

“I’d like to see what she’d say after that scene with her bra, go ahead.”

Gray’s look turned dark. “You’re a fuckhead.”

Lucy exited again looking more composed than she had moments ago, but her hair was still a mess, knotty, unkempt. Kind of like her black dress, wrinkled and used. Loke imagined kicking Gray out and having her again.

He tried to focus on something else. “Why are you here, Gray?”

“Right.” Gray leaned back against the overstuffed armchair and took a piece of crookedly folded paper from his pocket. "Missus Agnatic contacted me again this morning. Another chick was attacked and robbed last night."

"Fuck.”

Gray’s demeanor changed, going sombre. “We actually got a face this time, though.”

Something was wrong, and Loke didn’t like it. “Let me see.”

Gray puffed up his cheeks with air and handed it over. Loke accepted with fingers that wanted to shake—partially because he was _exhausted_ , partially because he was nervous for some reason, feeding off Gray's energy, likely—and looked into a familiar face.

His mouth was dry. "This is accurate?"

"The girl was sure," Gray confirmed, "And they claimed the artist was the best in Port Gale."

Loke licked his lips, remembering all too well his ribs being kicked, falling nearly into a puddle of his own sick. The broken cheek. The blackness that came for him and the pain. _Oblivion._ The need to have it, the fear once it was kissing his heels

Lucy leaned over his shoulder and spat, "Peter?"

Gray said, "That's probably not his real name, just some handle he gave you to butter you up before he robbed you."

"He didn't want to rob her," Loke interjected, "He wanted to fuck her."

"Both?" Gray said. "Does it really matter?"

A little, though Loke was reluctant to think of why.

"He liked you, Lucy, you might be the key to cracking this," Gray continued.

"No," Loke said.

"No?" Lucy echoed.

Loke's neck heated. _No? Seriously? She's just another girl. Just another_ … She wasn’t really. She wasn’t just any girl. “He was too interested in her.”

“That’s the point,” Gray said. “That’s why she’s good bait.” Loke blew out all of his breath in frustration and Gray said, “Look, we'll be there with her, it's not like we're sending her off by herself."

“I don’t like it.”

“But I do,” Lucy said.

“Lucy—”

“I’ll be fine,” she said gently but firmly. “Really.”

Karen appeared and slung her arm casually over Loke’s shoulder. Hell, she was _cold._ “Would it bother you if it was _any_ girl?”

_Go away. Go away. Go away._

Instead, she sauntered to Lucy and fluffed her sticky, wet hair. Loke flinched and Karen laughed. “You’re so fucking _predictable,_ Loke! It’s _her._ It is. You don’t want anyone else looking at her or touching her.”

_Go away._

“You’ve always loved blondes. The heftier, the better, right? But a double D isn’t going to keep me away, you should know that. I never give up and I’m going to make your life a fucking misery until then.”

She absolutely would.

Karen came back to him and put her arms around his shoulders and her cheek to his cheek. “Unless I get what I want. Tonight, when your merry band of fucktards goes to catch Peter, find him first, Loke, and I want you to get him to finish what he started because we both know the only way you’re going to come to me is if someone makes you, and he’s good for it. Yes, Sir. He might not know it yet, but we all have a darkness and his is just... _there._ ” Ghost fingers prodded his heart. “He’ll help you repent.”

 _Let him beat you until you can't move. Until your heart stops._ He wished thinking about it didn't make his head whirl with panic and his skin crawl. What did an immortal know about death? Only that it was the great unknown.

"I’ll be with you.”

She always was.

“Now you’re getting it.” She took a step back, and then she buckled in on herself like an ugly flower shying from the light instead of the night. When she was gone, Loke could see Gray again, and Gray was staring at him hard.

“What?”

“I said, I think we should go back to the Mansion tonight,” Gray repeated. “Sound good?”

“Whatever you think,” Loke murmured.

Gray checked his watch. “It’s five. We’ll get ready, grab something to eat and then head over.”

Loke had never felt less hungry but he offered, "There's a restaurant downstairs."

Lucy said, "That sounds good. I'll be back in a few minutes, Loke, we can walk down together." He hated her right then. He hated himself for not saying no. He hated that when she waved, he waved back. He hated that she was gone and it was just him and Gray and Gray had the nerve to say,

"You want to sit this one out? Lucy and I probably got it."

Loke laughed harshly at the irony. He'd been wanting to back out of this job for days, and now that he had the opportunity, he wouldn't. "I'm in."

Gray looked satisfied—relieved. “Good.”

Loke stood in front of his mirror and purposefully mussed up his hair as a force of habit. He had to do everything _just so,_ so he didn’t break when he thought about all the things he’d be doing differently tonight.

 _Dead._ What the fuck did _dead_ mean? He’d been visited by Karen for weeks at least and he hadn’t had the balls to ask her. It wasn’t really a polite thing to ask your old master, was it? Would she have an answer? Of course, she would. Karen had an answer for everything, even if it wasn’t the right one, that was just the kind of person she was.

Loke’s door opened and Lucy came through; his thoughts scattered like ashes in the breeze. She'd changed into a complex pink dress with black lace overlay. The pleated skirt hit her upper thighs while her shoulders were bare. The bodice was broken up by black threads laced back and forth in a corset style, pushing her breasts up.

"What do you think?" Lucy did a little twirl, making her long golden locks bounce around her shoulders. She'd taken a curling iron to them; soft ringlets kissed her skin. Her eyes were barren of any makeup except for dark, dark mascara and her mouth was shiny with clear lip gloss. "Do you think Peter will hit on me again?"

Loke's mouth fell into a flat line. "This is a stupid idea."

Lucy fussed at the hem of her dress self-consciously. "It doesn't look good?"

He grunted. "It's..."

Lucy stepped closer to him. On her feet were flat-heeled black leather boots. Loke imagined them pressing into his hips.

"It's what? Should I change?"

"That's not what I meant."

She raised a pale brow. "Then what?"

"You look good, Lucy." Too good. Loke realized she played him as soon as the words were spoken.

She smiled lightning fast. "I know I do. I just wanted to hear you say it."

He sighed and started gathering his wallet and his keys together.

Lucy said, "I know you're worried about me, but don't be. As soon as we find Peter, I'll butter him up, lead him out of the bar so we don't get anyone else involved, then we'll kick his ass, bring him into the cops and that's _it._ Done."

It _did_ seem like a sound plan. _Then how are you supposed to get Peter to finish what he started?_ Loke scrubbed his face, frustrated.

“If this is too hard, Loke, you could take that swim you were thinking of the other day and just get it over with,” Karen said from behind him. “The water’s still cold enough and I think you’re weak enough now it’d probably even work. Or if that’s no good, you could find your way to Sand Gorge outside town and find out what the bottom looks like. There’s no stopping once your feet leave the ground. _Or_ you know, you could just stop being a fucking pussy and take your knife and make a cut you can't come back from.”

Lucy touched his cheek; Loke startled. He hadn't even heard her cross the room. "What are you thinking of when you get that look in your eye?"

He caught her wrist and leaned away from her touch. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lucy didn't let him get far, coming near again and grabbing his hands. "Loke."

The way she said his name dragged his eyes to hers like she was an atom and he was a neutron. "What?"

"Are you nervous? About finding Peter again, I mean?"

"No."

She told him, "It's not going to be like the last time."

He had a hard time looking away from her shiny mouth. "No. It's not."

Lucy rose on tiptoe and kissed him. Loke was absolutely still until she pulled away. "What is it?" Lucy asked.

"I…"

"Mmhm?"

"I don't want to kiss you."

"Really?" She came up on tiptoe and found his mouth again, and kissed him in such a way that he just couldn't ignore. His lips moved and Lucy deepened the kiss, finding his tongue. It was intense. Devastating. Piquant. He couldn't continue, and yet he couldn't stop.

 _You don't have to._ People kissed all the time and it meant nothing a lot of the time. This could be like that.

_Yes._

In seconds, Loke had himself convinced that this was okay if it wasn't _just_ kissing. If there was a purpose and it wasn't a very nice one. He undid his zipper and pulled himself out. He was already mostly hard, so it wasn't very difficult to bring on a full erection. Then he grabbed Lucy by the shoulder and broke their kiss so he could push her down to her knees.

She took in a startled breath but went down easily enough. There, she took him in her hand and tilted her face up to look at him. She wore an expression that he didn't need her to explain: she was going to let him run. For now. Lucy was playing the long game, and she played it surprisingly well. He _knew_ she was playing him. He _knew_ she was giving him what he wanted because it brought her close. Soon she'd be close enough that he had nowhere to run, then she'd strike and tear out every single bit of information he didn't want to give up. She'd work her way into his life and be as difficult as a boulder to move. She'd peer in and see just what kind of fake he was.

He grabbed his shaft and press it against her moist lips. Lucy opened her mouth and drew him in and Loke's thoughts withered. Her mouth was warm; her lips slipped easily over his body. She'd have to reapply her lip gloss later. The realization made him rock hard. He pulsed in her mouth. Lucy took him in deeper, then deeper still, grabbing him by the hips to keep him there.

Loke grabbed her curled locks with one hand and used the other to get her dress down far enough that he could see her breasts. Lucy took pity on his fumbling and took them out herself, pulling them up and over the hem of the corset. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, looking for approval. She didn't go wanting.

"You're so—" _Beautiful. Amazing._ "fucking hot." She tucked one arm under her breasts, lifting them up higher so he had a better look. That wasn't enough. Loke released her hair and pushed her back. "Sit up higher."

She rose on her knees. "Like this?"

Just like that. He positioned himself for her to take him into her mouth again. She obliged. He let it go on for another few seconds, then pulled back again and took her hands and forced her to push her breasts together. Finally, he grabbed his erection and pushed it between them and started working himself in and out of her soft mounds, picking up speed as he went.

Catching on quick, Lucy pinched her own nipples and bent her head so she could take him into her mouth on the upstroke. She moaned, hot and low. Loke's fingers found her hair again and he closed his eyes. Out of his mouth came a stream of curses and praises, everything from 'holy fuck,' to 'you're beautiful.’ Everything was too truthful. Too raw. Loke knew she was glimpsing beyond the excessive drinking and keep-you-at-a-distance-fucking. He was his most honest just then and there was no hiding it.

He gave up being rough and started combing his fingers gently through her hair. His breathing elevated. Encouraged, Lucy started moving her tongue. It felt too good. He came in her mouth, still sputtering nonsensical praises.

Lucy kept herself there for another beat, then carefully moved back. Loke immediately grabbed her elbows and pulled her to her feet, and kissed her. She trapped his face between her palms and slowed the kiss, turning it into something sweet instead of animalistic.

He hated her for that, too.

 _Soon you'll find Peter and you won't have to worry about this. You can use him to fix it._ Because this—Lucy—was a downwards spiral of lust-turning-sweet that he just couldn't fucking stand. He didn't get to be happy.


	10. Chapter 10

 

The sun had sunk below the horizon hours ago and the sky was black. Loke looked at the Mansion. Music pulsed out of its chipped brickwork. Only his heart sounded louder in his ears. The place was busy; men and women poured out of the doors and loitered on the streets, some young and fresh-faced, some old, with as many wrinkles as there were stars in the sky.

Loke felt Lucy's eyes upon him as he approached the Mansion's beer-stained front door. Her hand brushed his, not really grasping at his fingers, but just kissing them in the barest of touches. Desperate to avoid her and the spark of victory in her eye after his earlier slipup, he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and smiled wolfishly at a dark-haired girl with a cigarette in her mouth. She'd be cuter if she wasn't smoking, but with his own cigarettes jarring around in his pocket, what the hell could he say? The mission was accomplished, anyway. Lucy's chipper and triumphant _I'm-happy-because-you're-not-being-so-cold_ smile dimmed.

Good. Sort of.

Gray grabbed the door and yanked it open, allowing voices and music to seep into the nighttime. Lucy slipped through first in a swirl of short pink and black material and damaged golden curls. Gray grabbed Loke's well-worn green jacket and pulled him up short before he could follow on her heels like a lost dog.

"Hey, don't get wrecked, alright?" He said it inches from Loke's ear so he could hear over the music. "Not like last night."

"Yeah," he said half-heartedly. "I know." There wasn't any time lately he particularly wanted to be sober, but the need to be lost was even stronger tonight. Too scared, too nervous. Too infatuated. Too anxious by half.

Gray was satisfied with his answer and released him and he continued inside. Out of the cool early spring air, the smell of alcohol and humans enveloped him. It was kind of a disgusting smell, but one that he relished for no other reason than usually when he smelled it, he was well on his way to getting drunk. Drunk meant he was brave.

He shoved his hands through his hair and made his way to the bar. The bartender from last night was working again. She saw him and smiled and pulled out a shot glass, filling it with Karn Barrel whisky, last night's drink of choice, without being asked.

He leaned his elbows on the counter, overlooking Lucy a few stools away, and grinned. "How d'you know that's what I want?"

"It's what you were drinking last night or did you forget?" the bartender asked.

"That was last night." The smile on his face was fake, fake, fake flirty. Lucy believed it, though; he could feel her eyes digging holes in his skin.

"Men like you don't vary too much," the bartender informed him. "Looking to get drunk and whisky drunk is the deepest."

Loke didn't like being marginalized, even if it were true. He accepted the drink wordlessly and turned. Gray was right over his shoulder.

"Same for me," he said.

The woman poured him a shot and handed it off. Gray drank it back like it didn't taste like shit, and dropped his glass for another. Loke raised his brows; he'd expected him to wander some. "Going to lurk around here all night?"

"Lucy would be better company," Gray admitted, "But I don't want to scare anyone off."

Loke didn't try to hide his annoyance. He drank the shot and almost spat it out again, it was so strong.

He ordered another.

* * *

Gray was so busy surveying the crowd, he didn't notice that Loke was outpacing him. Only when he turned back and saw the bartender take away two shot glasses and an empty beer bottle did he wear a look of cutting discontentment. Loke weathered the glare and as a reward, he allowed himself to shoot a furtive glance Lucy's way. So far, two men and a woman had come crawling around her.

Across the bar, the dark-haired girl from earlier started weaving through the crowd, looking to get outside, a man at her back. Loke stood.

"Where are you going?" Gray asked sharply.

"Gotta take a piss," Loke said. It wasn't a total lie.

Gray frowned.

"What, you wanna come along and hold it for me?" Loke asked glibly.

"Maybe, if it means you won't fuck off on me again," Gray returned.

"Relax. I'll be back." Loke waved him off and started moving towards the washroom. Along the way, he ploughed hard into a blonde guy trying to gather up the courage to talk to Lucy, forcing him to spill the drink he bought for her all over the ground.

"Sorry, mate."

Loke was growled at. It slid over his skin ineffectually.

He did actually stop in the bathroom, just as he said. There wasn't any dark-skinned girl in there tonight, leaning against the wall with her skirt pulled up over her ass, just an old guy by the counter crushing up something white and powdery. He snorted it hard and swallowed a few times, trying not to gag.

Loke ignored the drugs, took his piss, washed his hands, then entered the bar again. Instead of going back towards Gray and Lucy, though, he went right, towards the emergency exit. He opened the door and glided stealthily into the cool night. He needn't be worried, though, the bar was so full, there wasn't a direct line of sight between the door and Gray's seat, and he was sure Lucy was too busy telling that guy where to jump to notice his absence.

Outside, a brisk wind brushed over his face and cut through his light jacket, chilling him to the bone. His arm ached. His cheek twanged with a memory. In the shadows, Karen waited, a half smile on her mouth.

"You saw?"

"I'm out here, aren't I?" Loke asked. His voice warbled.

"You're afraid."

_Afraid._ Every step said, _afraid._ There was no sense replying.

He heard them before he saw them, soft sighs, wet mouths. The smell of cigarettes came to him. Inspired, he took his own out of his pocket and stuffed one into the corner of his mouth. Curling around the side of the building, he came into a darkened alley. There was a street lamp at its end, but it had long ago burned out and no one bothered to replace it. Who wanted to look into this shadowy corner, anyway? All anyone would ever see were broken bottles, used condoms, crushed cigarette butts, gum and blood smears.

It smelled like piss and rotting garbage. It smelled like the corner every degenerate went to forget themselves, at least for a little while.

He saw the man's wide shoulders first, then his hands pressing the girl into the wall at her back. Loke's once broken cheekbone remembered those bruised looking knuckles well. There was a moment where he felt paralyzed. All he could do was watch Peter clutch the woman's throat loosely.

" _Don't just stand there,_ " Karen hissed. " _Do something._ "

His blood raced. _Right._

"Hey, got a light?" His voice didn't warble. He didn't stutter. He didn't flinch when Peter turned around. He smiled serenely, directing it at the girl leaning dazedly against the wall.

Peter opened his split-lipped mouth and said, "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

"Getting a light, then asking the lady if she wants to ditch the preemie cumwad she's with and hang out with someone better." He said the words to get a rise out of Peter and wasn't disappointed. Peter let the girl go and faced him head-on.

"What?"

"Wow, a _deaf_ preemie cumwad. What a snatch." He looked at the girl. "Got that light?"

The woman licked her lips, not yet intimidated by the rising tensions. She produced a sky blue lighter from between her breasts and handed it to Loke. Loke took the warmed plastic, well aware of Peter's seething scowl, and lit his smoke.

"So, what do you think, you want to ditch this dickhead and go somewhere that smells less like piss?" he asked around a long stream of grey smoke.

"What the fuck is with you?" Peter asked. "Do you have a death wish or something? You didn't get the hint the first time?"

"The first time?" the brunette asked.

"I kicked this guy's ass a couple days ago for being a waste of skin," Peter said.

Loke took another haul off his smoke then flashed his teeth, telling the girl, "That's real funny, isn't it? He's the one looking all messed up, right? Try again, Peter, who kicked whose ass?" Gray had really tuned the guy up. His cheek was still black and blue, his left eye was dark, and his mouth had two large scabs on the left side; Gray always swung right to left.

Peter snorted like an angry bull. Loke smiled nervously, though he knew it looked natural, cocky. He'd practiced the look in the mirror again and again and reserved it for when he knew he was playing with fire.

"Yeah?" Peter hissed. "We'll see."

The woman opened her mouth to add something just as Peter swung.

Instinct and residual pride had Loke dropping his quarter-smoked cigarette and dodging the first shot. He wasn't so lucky the second time, alcohol making him clumsy. Peter's ham-sized fist struck him straight in the jaw. It hurt more than the first time, maybe, because he wasn't nearly as drunk now.

Peter growled and swung again; Loke shoved his fist aside, his forearm going numb with the impact, and came around with a sharp uppercut that made his knuckles burn when it met Peter's jaw. No one ever talked about that, the pain; not humans because they were fleeting creatures, alive for only a breath, so who wanted to focus on all the suffering they endured? And not immortals, whose hubris was unmatched. For Loke, who was neither anymore, pain seemed like the only thing he _could_ focus on. His knuckles sang.

Peter shook off the hit and roared like a beast. The next thing Loke knew, he was forced against the cracked alley wall, the air pushed out of his lungs. A large hand closed around his shoulder, pinning him in place while something cold and hard pressed against his throat. The brunette cried out from steps away, suddenly not so interested in the fight when steel came into the equation and raced back towards the safety of the Mansion.

"You fucking _asshole_ ," Peter raged, then spat in Loke's face and jarred him against the wall again. Loke stopped fighting and let it happen. The buildup was what he'd been so frightened of; now with a knife pressed against his throat and absolutely no control, he hardly felt anything at all. ' _It's easy to die.'_

He laughed at that, a weak, sputtering thing, and decided that he did feel something: manic.

"You think this is funny?" Peter asked dangerously and pressed the knife in hard enough to draw a runner of blood. "I could slice you open."

Loke waited.

"You have to ask for it, Loke," Karen prodded from steps away.

_Ask. Dare._ "Go ahead."

"I'll do it," Peter confirmed.

Oddly enough, it was that confirmation that made Loke doubt. "So do it." _And then this can be over_. A wet, red smile under his fake one would be enough, right? He wouldn't heal a cut like that.

Peter's hands shook, the knife rattling in his hold.

Loke grabbed the handle and held it steady for him. "Do it, asshole. Cut me."

"You fucked or something?"

"Just fucking do it, damnit!" Loke's lungs felt small. _Please. Please. Please._

Peter swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. Sweat prickled at his brow.

Loke closed his eyes. "Do it."

Peter actually pressed in harder. Loke released the knife so he could grab the loose material of his pants. _Is it going to hurt?_

"Hey!" Something cracked loudly. Spurts of celestial magic snapped through the night, pricking Loke's skin and making it hurt. Lucy had arrived, and she came bearing her whip. The pressure on Loke's neck lessened.

Lucy's whip cracked again. The blade jarred, cutting in a little deeper, then was torn away. The sound of it clattering against the split pavement was like a gunshot piercing the night. Terrifying. Heart-stopping.

_No. No. No._

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Loke stood there, pressed back against the wall, blood leaking down his throat and into the collar of his shirt, hurt but not fucking hurt _enough._ Anger made him thoughtless. He wanted to grab the blade and scream at Peter to finish what he started, but it was halfway to Lucy's feet now, well out of reach. _There's yours._ But Gray was coming, Lucy was coming.

There was no time, and he didn't know if he could do it on his own. Then he looked at Peter and saw the truth. He wasn't going to be any help. He just stood there and stared dumbly, shocked, panicked. _Realization_. Peter was coming to terms with the fact that he'd just thought about killing a man. Honest to goodness _thought_ about killing a man. Not just beating him a little too badly, but cutting him open and letting him bleed.

And the thought made him sick.

_Fucker._ Furious, Loke balled his hand into a tight fist and swung. It hit Peter square in the jaw. The man's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he hit the ground hard, landing in a cigarette butt filled heap, and lay still. Loke kicked his ribs hard for good measure, then stalked past a gap-mouthed and stunned-still Lucy.

"Are you okay?" Gray asked, recovering before Loke could walk by.

"Just fucking perfect," Loke hissed.

"You're bleeding."

"I'm fine. There's your thief. Better take him in."

"Your neck—"

"I said I'm _fine."_ He entertained the idea of punching Gray, too, though it would only make him feel better for an instant. _Is there no reprieve in this fucking place? Being stuck here is the worst punishment,_ he realized, _maybe I'll never die. maybe I'll be trapped like this, with Karen tormenting me, with death teasing my heels, afraid to die but_ needing _it and never fucking having it._

"Then you should help—"

"No." He pushed past Gray and stormed off into the night.

* * *

He had some strange looks coming into the Marduk but no one dared say anything. That was good. He was in no mood to be fielding their questions. His neck hurt every time he swallowed and he didn't have a backup plan, leaving him to wonder, _now_ what?

Karen appeared at his side. He didn't dare turn to face her head on; her reflection was a little too black around her throat, her eyes. She was decomposing. It was illogical, it had been three years since she died, she was already only bones and sludge, but… there it was. He couldn't deny it.

"Is this ever going to stop?" He'd meant his words to sound forceful and annoyed but they were dry grass, mashed together and frayed at the beginning, middle and end.

Karen touched his back. "Yes."

"When?"

"Come see me, Loke," she whispered.

"You're here with me now."

"My grave, Loke. Come to my grave." He imagined the cascading waterfall, the place that was far too beautiful for his old master. "Doesn't it feel right?"

_Yes._ "It's really going to happen?" Even as he asked, he was hit with a powerful dizzying wave.

"Yes. I'll wait for you." She touched his back gently, caressing his spine with hellishly cold fingers, then she faded away.

The elevator opened, spitting him out into the hallway. He staggered to his room. There was a vanity that spat his image back to him. His neck was red. He took off his shirt and daubed the cut. It was long and shallow. Suddenly, he was glad. Karen was right, going to her side would have a certain rituality to it, one that appealed to him.

The trip to Alma Ridge, where Blue Pegasus and similarly Karen's grave was located, was going to take a day by train. The fastest way to do it would be to leave in the morning on the first train out of Port Gale. He couldn't imagine staying at the Marduk another night, though. He needed to get out before Lucy and Gray came and started asking questions he couldn't answer.

He snagged a plain black hoodie from his bag and tugged it on. He left his soiled shirt on the floor, grabbed his pack and was just going to the door when it burst open.

Lucy stood there, her curls limp, her eye makeup smeared with tears. When she moved it was in a flurry. Slamming the door closed behind herself, she stormed into the room, tore the bag out of his hand and threw it to the floor.

"What the _fuck_ was that?"

Loke stooped and grabbed his bag again, feigning calmness. "Excuse me."

Lucy ripped it from his hands once more. This time when she threw it to the floor, she threw it far away. It hit the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Loke looked at it, annoyed, then decided fuck it, what did he need it for anyway? Everything that was really important was in his pockets.

He moved to go around her. Lucy grabbed him by the collar of the sweater, the motion pulling the material taut against his cut so it reopened. The pain was so startling, so _abrupt,_ he could only gasp. It wasn't just the cut that hurt, it was Lucy, her magic curling around her agitatedly.

Lucy loosened her hold but the wrath was still in her voice. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm getting out of here, obviously," Loke responded. His warbling voice belied his cool words. "Let go of me."

"No." Lucy pushed him back towards the bed. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." It was easier to lie.

"I _saw_ you, Loke. You were egging him on, daring him to do it. And when he wasn't going to, you were furious. So I'll ask again, _what the fuck?_ "

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that bullshit. Tell me what's going on with you."

"I don't owe you any explanation."

Her eyes got lake-ice hard. "Would it be different if I was your master?"

He took her words like a kick in the gut. "You don't know what you're talking about." His voice shook even more than before.

Lucy's features didn't soften. "I think I do. You're a celestial spirit."

"Excuse me." He made another shot for the door. Lucy didn't push him, just placed her palm on his chest and he _stopped._

"Tell me I'm wrong."

He could only look at her, not accepting, not denying, just fucking _staring_. Being around her was a mistake, he knew that from the beginning but hadn't changed anything.

Lucy said, "I want to help you. Tell me what's going on."

She sounded so sincere, his heart ached. "There's no point. You can't help me."

"You haven't even let me try." She touched his face. "I don't want you to hurt anymore. I don't want you to hurt yourself, and I don't want you looking for other people to do it for you. I can't stand it." She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Talk to me."

She wore him down like water on stone. "I don't know where to start."

"With your name. Your real one."

Loke heard himself say, "Leo."

Recognition flitted over her face. "Good. Now tell me what happened."

Loke imagined opening his mouth and spilling everything. It would be like draining a festering wound. "I killed my old master."

Her fingers loosened, the only sign she was shocked. "How?"

"Karen was…" Right there at his side. He could _smell_ her, like roadkill left too long in the sun.

"Tell her, Loke, Master commands it," Karen said.

He would not look at her. "She was mean. We were tools. She was the worst to Aries. I think because Aries wouldn't stick up for herself. Karen hated weakness; she smelled it and she latched on like a dog and would not let go."

"You make me sound like a terror. I think if she never said no, she must have meant yes," Karen said.

"I should have said something to stop it. I was supposed to be their leader, after all, the one that kept them safe, but I watched and watched. I think I hoped she'd stop but she never did. One day, I just kinda broke, I guess. She called Aries and I came with her. Aries went back to the celestial realm and I stayed because Karen wouldn't break our contracts. I stayed so she couldn't call another spirit. I stayed for so long, it drained her magic. She couldn't go out to work because I wouldn't do anything for her. It went on for months.

"One day, she got so desperate, she decided to go anyway. She couldn't do the job she wanted to and—"

"Say it, Loke," Karen prodded.

"She's dead because of me."

Lucy squeezed his fingers. Loke was afraid to look at her but made himself. The only expression he could see on her face was pity. "You did the right thing."

"I broke my contract."

Lucy showed no conflict when she said, "You stopped abuse when you saw it."

And now he was being punished for it.

"How long have you been here?" Lucy asked.

"Three years," he said finally. "I've been in the human realm for three years."

Lucy caught her breath. " _How_? That shouldn't be possible."

He snorted a self-deprecating sound. "As their leader, I could do things that the other Zodiacs couldn't."

Lucy said, "Go home, Loke. Go back to the celestial world; you've been here too long."

He shook his head. "I can't, even if I wanted to."

"Why not?"

"I _told_ you, I broke the most sacred rule, Lucy. I killed Karen Lilica. I killed my master." He felt his cheeks dampen but did nothing to stop it. "I can't go back to the celestial realm. My punishment is to remain here until all of my magic is gone. I'm to die like a mortal."

"I don't accept that. You were doing what was right," Lucy responded immediately.

"It wasn't right," Loke replied. "It was stubborn and it was cruel. She begged me, Lucy. And... And I said no." He couldn't ever forget her voice because she wouldn't let him.

Lucy was silent for a long time. Then her hands weaved with his and she said, "Karen knew the consequences of her actions. We're going to fix this. We'll have an audience with the Spirit King and get him to revoke his ruling."

"How?"

She gnawed on her lip. "I thought maybe you'd know."

"It's never been done. The Spirit King doesn't speak to mortals."

Her expression turned obstinate. "As soon as the library opens tomorrow morning, I'm going. There is something there. There has to be. _Someone somewhere_ has spoken to the Spirit King."

No one, but Loke knew Lucy wouldn't listen anyway.

She was lost in thought for another moment; her expression cleared and she lifted his hand and placed it on her cheek. She kissed his wrist. "Will you lay down with me?"

Karen was gone for the moment and without her there, Loke felt his resistance dissolve.

Lucy took him to the mattress and sat him down at the edge. She tilted his chin up and kissed him chastely. She moved to his chin, his jawline, his cheek, and then his temple. "Here." She went delving into her purse and pulled out some antiseptic wipes. When she tore them open they smelled sharply like alcohol. "I'll clean up your arm for you. I didn't mean to hurt you again."

It'd stopped bleeding already. "It's fine."

"It's not. I was just… I couldn't think." She lifted his sleeve and wiped all of the blood away. She threw out the antiseptic in the washroom and came back with a gauze bandage she taped onto his arm.

Loke asked her, "What happened to Peter?"

"He was still pretty out of it when he woke up, so Gray just made some handcuffs and took him into the police."

"You should have gone with him," Loke told her.

"I think this is a better place for me to be," she said without missing a beat.

Loke snorted his displeasure, but really, how angry could he be with Lucy's fingers abandoning his arm and threading through his hair? And everything felt easier now that his secret was out.

_Karen, think of Karen._

' _I'll wait.'_

He didn't think Karen meant she'd wait for _this_.

"We're going to fix everything," Lucy said like she read his thoughts. "I'll take care of you." She didn't like that he didn't respond. She kissed him as if to press the thought into his body, long and laboriously. "I promise." Every stroke of her tongue strove to swipe away a worry. "Okay?"

"Okay." _Okay_ was the kind of okay a person said when there was nothing else _to_ say. _Okay_ was dismissive in the way a hopeful person wished it weren't. _Okay_ was believably placating because he _believed_ she wanted to and would do almost anything she could to make it true, though he didn't think it'd amount to anything.

Lucy kissed him more forcefully. Loke cupped her face and responded properly; what else was there to do? She fussed with the strings on the front of her dress, and then shrugged off the material so it puddled on the floor. She stood only in her panties, no bra, and let him look on, like she expected him to and would accept no less. He did. He took in each curve and dip but made sure to tell her,

"You always want too much."

She pulled her hair over her shoulder. "Always?"

"Yes."

"Maybe because I know you have more to give."

"I have nothing."

"You have this." She leaned in and kissed him for the third time.

Loke closed his eyes. _You can't be hers. You can't._

She took him by the belt loops and got him standing; Loke went like a puppet on a string and let her remove the rest of his clothes.

Her hands were gentle touching him, insistent when she made him touch her. Intimate. Everything was too intimate. There was a secret between them and it made a string he wanted to cut but didn't have the right tools to do the honours, not there, not then.

She made them switch places, so her back was to the mattress, and pulled him down on top of her. Loke buried his face in her neck. He did everything gently, kiss her, fuck her. He didn't have anything to hide. He spilled on her belly. Lucy cleaned up and returned to him. Loke eased his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep. He couldn't even dream of joining her.

Night bled into dawn. Six o'clock approached and brought with it the train to Alma Ridge.

The train to Karen.

Carefully, silently, he untangled himself from Lucy. He left everything as it was, taking only his knife and his wallet, and slipped out into the early morning.

* * *

Loke didn't really remember walking through Alma Ridge. He didn't remember following the mountain path out to this most secret spot, Karen's _favorite_ spot, and he didn't remember dropping to his knees in front of her gravestone.

The sound of water roared in his ears. The edges of his vision got black. "Karen?" He'd been waiting for her to show up for what felt like forever. His feet had gone to sleep, his legs long since cramped and gone numb.

_Will she deny me?_ he wondered, and again, _will she force me to remain here, not immortal, not mortal, not alive, not dead?_

Then she appeared, looking like a gruesome angel, arms crossed over her chest. Her skin looked too loose. He couldn't lift his gaze to meet her black, black eyes so he focused on her lips that wouldn't quite meet.

She confessed, "I deserved punishment."

"You were mean," Loke told her. "I deserved it, too, though."

"You did."

"I think I'm not afraid anymore."

"But you still don't want to die."

"No."

"I'm glad that's haunted you," Karen said. "I'm glad that I didn't know I didn't want to die until it was happening."

"You didn't get to appreciate anything in your last days," Loke told her. "That doesn't seem better."

"I didn't have anyone to pine after," Karen corrected him. "My death was less painful than yours will be."

"Well, there's that," Loke said without knowing if he was being sarcastic or not.

Karen looked at something over his shoulder. "We should do it now."

He closed his eyes and breathed out.

"Now, Loke."

"I'm coming."

" _Now._ Take my hand _now._ " There was an urgency in her tone that could not be ignored. Loke opened his eyes. Karen's hand was out, reaching for him, and her mouth was open, her lips forming around his name, but it was not her voice that spat it out. It was Lucy's. He was confused, and then he felt her touch his shoulder and _knew._ Her arms looped around his neck.

"You scared me."

"You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you, not by yourself." Lucy's chin rested on his shoulder as she read Karen's grave marker. "You should have told me you wanted to visit her. I would have come with you."

His frustration choked him. "I wasn't coming back."

She stood abruptly. Loke looked at her; she was furious again. So, so angry, and when she was angry, her magic unfolded and nipped at _everything_. "I told you I wasn't going to let you fade away."

"It's not something that can be _stopped,"_ Loke barked back.

The ends of Lucy's hair curled and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Watch me. Open, Gate of the Lion."

"It won't work."

She ignored him and tried harder. "Open, Gate of the Lion—"

"Lucy—stop it. This is my punishment."

"You don't deserve it!" she retorted. "Open, Gate of the Lion!"

_More magic._ More and more and more. "You're going to burn yourself out!" Loke said over the magical roar in his ears. "Just _stop_ , leave me alone."

"I'm not going to let you die here," Lucy told him fiercely.

"There are _rules,_ " he said. "I broke them; this is—"

"Every rule has an exception," she insisted. "Open, Gate of the Lion, Leo!"

He couldn't touch her anymore, there was so much power coming from her skin, she was like a minute sun, searing. Too bright. He closed his eyes while his skin burned. "Lucy—"

"Shut up, Loke. Let me take care of you."

"You can't get through! My gate is _sealed_."

"Then I'll make my own," she said. Her magic flared, the brightest yet. "Open, Gate of the Lion!"

There was a _huge crack_ and then all sound fled. Loke struggled to breathe in the sudden pressure. Everything was frozen, the waterfall, the breeze that was drifting through the scrubby birch just steps away, the mist rising up from the crack between the rocks.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a harsh, baritone voice.

Loke felt the blood drain from his face. Lucy swallowed like her throat had been baking in the desert for years. She turned like it, too, slowly, like her bones were fragile things made of brittle talc. Loke followed her, to where a giant of giants waited, floating above the deep fissure where the water had once plummeted.

The light around his body seemed to bend in, like he had a gravity of his own. His moustache seemed larger than ever, and his tree-trunk arms were crossed over his barrel-like chest.

The Celestial Spirit King.

Lucy couldn't seem to speak until she'd gripped Loke's arm. "Loke needs to go home. Open his gate."

"Leo the Lion is banned from the celestial realm."

"He shouldn't be," Lucy said in a stronger voice. "He hasn't done anything—"

"He's responsible for the death of the celestial mage, Karen Lilica," the Spirit King said.

"It was an accident."

"He knew what he was doing." The king's words left little room for argument.

"He did what he did—"

"Lucy, stop," Loke interjected.

"To save Aries. She was being abused. You should know that," Lucy said stubbornly. "He was taking action when—" _Yes,_ she dared. "—you wouldn't."

The king's face went blank. "Pardon?"

"Lucy," Loke hissed, horrified and scared for her.

Lucy shook, but she didn't back down. "He was doing the right thing. He shouldn't be banned. Karen was her own person; she _knew_ if she kept going she was going to get hurt. All she had to do was break her contracts and Loke would leave, but she was greedy and prideful and _terrible_. Loke's done nothing wrong. Absolve him this instant, let him back into the spirit realm."

"It doesn't work like that," the king replied after a beat.

"Who makes the rules?" Lucy challenged.

"Me, of course—" the Spirit King started, then realized his mistake.

"Then you can change them. Let Loke back in. He deserves better than to just waste away here in the human realm. You should be thanking him for standing up for what was right, not punishing him."

"A human is dead."

"Karen may be gone, but it wasn't his fault. You know that. I know you do." She said it with such conviction that Loke saw the Spirit King waver. " _Please._ It's a celestial mage's duty to protect and care for their spirits, yet Karen Lilica _hurt_ them. She didn't deserve them. Loke _knew_ that and stood up for what was right and you should too." Tears made Lucy's cheeks shine.

"You truly believe what you're saying."

"Of _course_ I do," Lucy said.

The Spirit King turned his eyes to Loke. "You've found an unusual young lady here, Leo the Lion, brave and passionate."

Loke's mouth felt far too dry to drum up a reply.

"Please let him return," Lucy pleaded. "Please."

He pursed his lips. "And who will be his mage?"

"Me, of course," Lucy said without hesitation. "I'll take care of him."

The Spirit King's eyes landed on Loke. "Very well. You may return, Leo, if, as your penance, you swear to serve Lucy Heartfilia for as long as she may live. If you break your contract again, there will be no second chances."

It took Loke a long time to process what he said.

"Are those terms not agreeable?" the Spirit King asked.

Lucy nudged him and Loke's brain kicked in gear. Lucy as his master. He hunted for Karen's ghost but could not find her. Lucy's radiance had pushed out the darkness. He whispered, "Yes."

"Then it is done." The Spirit King's voice carried power. Loke felt something searing hot move through his body into Lucy's, binding them together. It was gone as fast as it came, though Loke knew it meant he was Lucy's. Laugh or scream? Silence pushed its way up first. He was _mute._

Lucy was not. "Thank you, Sir!"

The Spirit King grunted and started to fade. In front of Loke's knees, a golden key appeared, one he hadn't seen for a very, very long time. Lucy was quick to snatch it up. Turning to Loke she caught his face between her hands and kissed him gently. "I'll see you soon. Close, Gate of the Lion." Lucy's magic dripped out of her and into him. Her smile was eaten by the light.

* * *

Time passed differently in the celestial realm. Quickly. Wounds healed and magic restored. Karen's ghost nudged by him sometimes, but she only gained enough of a foothold to whisper a passing mean comment and then she was gone again.

When he was able, Loke opened his own gate and passed into the human realm to Lucy's side. She slept in her own bed back in Magnolia with her hair tangled across her face. Gentle morning light made glittering stars out of the strands. Loke touched them and Lucy came awake. She rolled back and pulled him down beside her. She smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." Though in quiet moments, he still choked on guilt.

Lucy pushed his messy hair back from his forehead, fingers lingering on his cheek.

"You shouldn't have done that, Lucy."

"Why?"

"Because…"

"The rules are the rules?" She replied. "I don't believe that. Neither did the Spirit King."

"You don't know what he believed."

"You wouldn't be here now if he really thought you deserved your fate," she said simply.

Loke tried to find an argument for that. He had nothing so he said, "It was still reckless."

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat." She cradled his face and brought him in close enough she could kiss him.

"How did you know? What I was?" he asked between their mouths.

She brought in a huge breath. "I knew something strange was happening when my magic was drawn to you, but I guessed the night Peter attacked you. You were so beat up, your face was all split up and bones were broken, but in the morning, they were healed or healing. I'd only seen that kind of thing once before when I was young; Aquarius pushed me out of the way of a moving cart. I was really afraid for her but the next day, she showed up and her wounds were either gone or almost. After that… everything just kind of made sense."

He remembered her leaning over him, _tell me, tell me._ Tell her his secrets. "I'll always be here," he said when he could. "No matter what. Anything you need." It wasn't enough.

"I know." She pulled him in and moved her mouth busily over his. Loke closed his eyes, letting Lucy be as greedy as she wanted.

* * *

Old habits were like the walking dead. Haunting and hard to kill.

Loke stared at Lucy's ceiling, searching for the pain. He couldn't find any but there _should_ be some, shouldn't there? He turned his arms towards the ceiling and looked through his lashes at the long scar reaching down to his palm. He fingered the raised skin. Even the memory of pain was dull. _It shouldn't be_ , he thought. _It should always be raw and unbearable._

He was standing before he even really realized he'd made the decision, and went rooting through his discarded pants for his wooden-handled knife. It was in his hand and he was on his way to the washroom when Lucy finally spoke up.

"Loke."

He stiffened, hand on the doorknob, and stared at the wooden door. He'd thought she was asleep. He didn't want to say anything, but his mouth moved, acknowledging her. "Yeah?"

"You don't have to do that."

He bit his lip while he determined if he should explain the difference between having to and wanting to. She wouldn't appreciate the distinction, he decided.

"Loke..."

He squeezed the hard handle, fingernails biting into the wood and into his palm where his fingers overlapped.

Lucy rose and came to him, inserting herself between him and the door. Her eyes were gentle, her lips soft when she got on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her fingers closed around his, then she set to work wriggling the knife from his grip. He resisted every step of the way, not knowing what he'd be without it.

"Trust me," she said.

"Lucy—"

Again she said calmly, "Trust me."

"What if—" _I need to._

"Trust me."

His lungs felt too small. "I—"

"Let go. You'll be okay without it."

"How do you know?"

"Because you have me. Let go."

He didn't know he could until he did. Likewise, he wouldn't know if he could stop until he did. Somehow, he managed to loosen his hold on the knife. "Okay."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading new readers, thanks for re-reading old readers. This story is special to me. Thanks for letting me share it with you.


End file.
